


The Boy Who Lost Everything

by Notfrozen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-08-19 23:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20217943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notfrozen/pseuds/Notfrozen
Summary: It was April Fools Day, 1980. The witches and wizards of Britain could hardly believe their ears. They thought it was a joke, but it was true: You-Know-Who was gone. Everyone was celebrating. Everyone except Bill Weasley. He wished what was happening was all just a cruel joke. Crossposted from FF.net. See author's note about story status.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I started writing back in 2017. I've always wanted to write a story with a different character being the Boy Who Lived and see how the world would change. The first part is seven chapters and is focused on Bill Weasley and the investigation surrounding Voldemort's demise. I wanted to explore a wizarding world where law enforcement is actually involved and doing the investigating rather than Hogwarts' Headmaster :) 
> 
> I will post one chapter daily. Afterwards, expect a decent wait for the Ron chapters. I've been pulling my hair out over the years trying to figure out how I want to write this story, haha. I've rewritten the outline for it three or four times. I think I finally have it the way I want it, though, so hopefully there'll be a new chapter by the end of the year! Fingers crossed! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy what I have written so far! Let me know what you think :)

**Chapter One**

Nine year old Bill Weasley woke with a long gasp. It was eerily dark within his room and for some reason his night light was off. For a moment he wondered why the enchantment had been cancelled when he heard screams and shouts of alarm that made his blood freeze. It sounded like his parents.

Something was wrong.

Bill's heart was thundering in his chest as he leapt out of bed. His hands shook as he searched under the bed for his special pair of squashy slippers. They had been a gift from his dad last year on his birthday, saying to put them on if a stranger ever came into the house.

There was a loud thump upstairs and the crack of apparition. Bill's stomach lurched. He knew he should just run to the floo and get somewhere safe. That was what his mum told him to do if he ever thought he was in danger.

Instead he ran out the door and up the stairs, trying to keep his breathing steady. Not a single candle was lit making it difficult for Bill to see. On the landing he stumbled over something and almost fell but managed to catch himself. He looked down at what he had tripped over.

His body went cold. Bill gripped the railing of the staircase as his legs turned to jelly. He wanted to scream but the killer was still in the house.

Bill's dad was dead. Blue eyes that had been twinkling at him in amusement only a few hours ago stared at the ceiling, lifeless. His wand had rolled out of his hand. Trembling, Bill snatched it up and held it in a white-knuckled grip.

Loud wailing brought Bill back to reality. Ron! Bill sprinted up the final flight of stairs, hearing a loud thump that made his heart want to burst out of his chest. A high pitched laugh made his hair stand on end. Bill ran into the room and time seemed to go in slow motion.

A man in black robes was pointing his wand at a figure on the ground. Bill was going to be sick. The figure was his mum, who still held Ron tightly in her arms. Bill opened his mouth to shout, scream, to do anything to stop that madman.

Time sped up again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

For a split second a sickly green lit the darkened room. Then there was a deafening explosion that destroyed the ceiling and floor. The wooden boards beneath Bill's feet bent downward and he shouted as he slid and fell into a pile of debris.

Bill had broken a bone before when he was six. He'd fallen out of an apple tree after trying to save Percy's favourite kite. Until now, that had been the most painful moment of his life.

He stared up at the hole in the ceiling. This pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It felt like his every nerve end was on fire. Burning, burning, like one of Charlie's toy dragons had set him aflame. Only a thousand times worse. The air around him stank of burnt wood and something else. He didn't know what the smell was, but it was rancid.

He vomited and the pain lessened, becoming a mere throbbing in his head. Bill blinked. The room smelled of sick and smoke. Slowly the ringing in his ears faded, and Bill could hear Ron's unmistakable cries. Disbelief coursed through him. It wasn't possible.

Slowly, Bill took stock of his surroundings. He was lying spread eagle in a pile of broken wood and ceiling tiles. Turning his head he yelled in shock. A pair of dark eyes stared into space, unseeing. He immediately scrambled away, wincing and hissing in pain as his hands got cuts and splinters from the debris. Bill slid down and stood up, his whole body trembling.

That wizard in the debris had killed his parents. He tried to kill his baby brother and – Bill felt bile rise in his throat. Where were his brothers? Why hadn't they woken up from the noise? Had – had that wizard killed them, too?

Bill swayed on his feet. He couldn't stay in the house anymore. It suddenly felt tiny and like the walls were closing in on him. Bill felt like he couldn't breathe. He stumbled out of the room, retching at the sight of his dad's body, and hurried back up the stairs.

Ron was still crying, inconsolable, within the arms of his mum. Bill's vision blurred and a sob escaped him as he tip toed closer to her. Somehow the part of the floor where his mum and Ron were was still intact. Could it have been accidental magic on Ron's part? Bill wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had to get Ron and get out.

He held his breath as he unfolded his mum's arms. Careful to support Ron's neck the way mum taught him, Bill held his baby brother close.

"Shh, Ronnie. You're okay now." Bill frowned at the sight of a cut on Ron's forehead. A single droplet of blood was sliding down the bridge of his nose. Bill felt himself panic slightly at the sight. "We need to get out of here."

With a shaking arm, Bill carefully wiped the blood from Ron's nose with the sleeve of his pajamas. Ron whined but otherwise remained silent, his eyes squeezed shut. Bill was glad his brother had stopped crying. He wasn't sure if he would be able to handle to sound well at the moment.

Before he left, Bill took in a shaky breath and turned to look at his mum. Her curled red hair covered half of her face. Bill could see determination in her features, though fear was evident in her brown eyes. Held tightly in her fist was her wand. Bill carefully pried it from her hand and placed it in his pocket with his dad's wand.

"I – I love you, mum." His voice cracked and he turned away.

He had to call the aurors. Avoiding the hole in the floor, Bill hurried down the stairs to the nearest fireplace in his parent's room. He ignored the debris and body and looked for a safe place to set Ronnie down. A violent gust of cold air whistled through the hole in the roof making Bill shiver and Ron whine. He spotted the jar of floo powder on the mantle and had to hop up a bit to reach it.

Green powder slipped from his grasp and a good portion of it spilled onto the floor. Bill didn't care. He tossed the floo into the weak flames and watched as it turned a brilliant green. Bill dropped to his knees and called the Auror's office before pushing his head into the cool flames. He felt a wave of dizziness and blinked blearily before his vision cleared.

The Auror's office was dimly lit with a few floating candles of navy blue. Bill's eyes darted around, searching for an Auror – any Auror. When he saw none, he decided it would be best to simply speak up.

"Someone help please!" Bill heard the sound of a chair screeching and footsteps, though he couldn't see anyone from his angle. "Help!"

A blond man walked into his field of vision, eyes concerned but facial expression deathly serious. "Auror Mendel here. What's your name, lad?"

"I'm Bill. Bill Weasley. And please – Auror Mendel? I-I-I think you-know-who killed my parents and I think he's killed my brothers, too a-and…" Bill couldn't help the tears that flowed down his cheeks. It was like a dam had burst, and all the emotions he tried to keep held back were escaping the cracks.

"Bill? Bill!" Auror Mendel was crouching before him. "Is he still alive, Bill? Are you still in danger?"

"N-no, he's dead." Bill sniffed and wiped the snot with the back of his pyjamas. "They-they're all dead."

"I'm going to help you, Bill." Auror Mendel said with such conviction that Bill couldn't help but believe him. "I need to know you're floo address. Can you tell me that, Bill?"

"Yes. I-It's The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon."

"Thank you, Bill." Auror Mendel stood. "Stay where you are. A team of Aurors will be with you in a few minutes. If you feel like you're still in danger, you need to run, do you understand me Bill?"

Bill nodded. He was feeling exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Be careful, Bill. You can end the call."

He pulled his head out of the fireplace and watched as the emerald flames slowly changed back to their normal red. Ronnie was in a peaceful sleep at his side. Bill didn't dare touch him in fear of waking him. He eyed the cut on Ron's forehead. It wasn't bleeding anymore, thank Merlin, and was starting to scab over. He wondered if it would leave an ugly scar. Maybe his mum had something that would-

Mum. She was dead. Bill suddenly felt very much alone. He pulled his legs in toward his body, clutching them, and rested his head atop his knees. Tears spilled soundlessly from his eyes and it felt like a hippogriff was sat on his chest. Mum was never going to come back. She was never going to give him another bone crushing hug, scold him about the length of his hair, or shout at him for flying much too high again. Mum wouldn't be there to comfort him when he was sad, chase away the scary doxies, or let him lick the cake batter off the spoon. She wouldn't be there to see him go to Hogwarts…

Loud clunking footsteps sounded through the house and Bill tensed. His hand went for his pocket, where his parents' wands were. Then he heard a voice.

"Bill? Bill? It's Auror Mendel." His voice was coming from the staircase, it seemed. Bill relaxed and tried to stand.

"I'm here!" He wavered, almost falling over, but managed to stay standing.

Auror Mendel shouted over his shoulder, "Over here, fixit!" Behind him a young healer with black hair hurried over, a wand in one hand and a small box in the other. The healer grumbled something that sounded like, "Don't call me fixit."

"Auror Mendel?" Bill leaned against the wall, his body aching. "Check Ron first. His-his forehead is bleeding."

The healer said something under his breath and waved his wand. A patient exam table appeared in the room and he carefully set Ron onto it. As the healer did some diagnostic spellwork on Ron, Auror Mendel placed a hand on Bill's shoulder. "It's okay now, Bill. You're okay."

Bill's vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. He felt like a sob was being wrenched out of him and the hand on his shoulder tightened. "How is it okay? My whole family is dead?"

Auror Mendel knelt down in front of Bill and met his eyes. Both hands were on his shoulders. "Yes, Bill… they're gone. But you and your brother survived. It'll get better." He kept talking but Bill tuned him out, tears sliding down his cheeks. How was it going to get better without his dad there to cheer him on when he learned a new trick on his broom, or tell him stories about Great Grandad Weasley, or show him the little muggle knickknacks he found?

He was vaguely surprised when the auror pulled him into a hug, and without thinking he hugged the man back. If he closed his eyes he could pretend it was dad there instead. But the hug ended too soon and Bill was faced with blond hair instead of red and his heart sank.

"Mendel!"

The two looked up to see another Auror standing in the doorframe. Her skin was pasty white and she seemed to be in shock. "The house is clear. I set up protective enchantments so no one but DMLE and Healers can enter for now. I…" She glanced at Bill and trailed off. "We're taking the wand to Ollivander to see if he can identify the owner, but judging by his appearance we think it's Him."

Auror Mendel looked hopeful. "It better be Him. I want this damn war to be over." He stood up and turned to the Healer. "What did you find, Fixit?"

"For the last time, Mendel, it's Fisk. Not fixit." Healer Fisk said as he stood, Ron in his arms. "Besides the scar, the baby's fine." He glanced at Bill briefly before looking at Mendel again. "I tried everything I know to get rid of the scar but… it won't disappear. I'm pretty certain it's a curse scar." He took a few steps forward and lowered his voice. "I know it sounds crazy Mendel, but I think it was the killing curse."

Mendel stiffened. "That's not possible, Fisk. Everyone knows-"

"Yes, yes, no one can survive the Killing Curse. But look at this mark on his forehead. That's the exact wand movement."

"There's no way-"

"Healer Fisk is right," Bill piped up. The two wizards looked down at him. "It-it was the killing curse. I was there. I heard him say it. Then… then the house exploded."

They shared a look that Bill couldn't decipher. Healer Fisk frowned and tilted his head slightly and Auror Mendel sighed. It was the healer who spoke next.

"Bill, I'm going to need to do some diagnostic spells on you to make sure you don't have any hidden injuries. Is that okay?"

"What about Ronnie? What's going to happen to him?" Bill looked at the small bundle in Healer Fisk's arms.

"Ronnie will be just fine, Bill, no need to worry." To Auror Mendel he said, "Can you get the bassinet over here?"

Auror Mendel waved his wand and muttered the summoning spell. A few moments later Ronnie's bassinet showed up in the room.

"Auror Mendel?" Auror Verity called from outside the room. "The coroners are here. They want to speak with you."

He nodded and turned to Bill. "I'll be back later, Bill. Healer Fisk is going to take care of you right now, all right?"

Bill nodded. "Okay." He watched as Auror Mendel left the room, Auror Verity at his side. His attention turned to Healer Fisk, who at some point has conjured a magical mobile of snitches and broomsticks. It floated and spun round and round in a way that transfixed Bill.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Healer Fisk said. "They have all sorts of mobiles at St. Mungo's paediatric ward. I don't think they'll miss this one."

He glanced at Healer Fisk, who turned to meet his eyes. "Are you going to do a check up on me?"

That seemed to snap the healer out of his thoughts. He pulled his wand out of his robes. "Yes. It'll just be a diagnostic spell first. Why don't you have a seat on the table, Bill?"

Bill eyed the table and nodded. He didn't like seeing Healers. Something about the colour of the robes gave him anxiety, and he always ended up having to drink a disgusting potion afterwards. However, his back was starting to hurt a lot. It was with great reluctance that he sat on the table.

"I'm going to do the spell now, all right? It won't hurt a bit." A look of deep concentration appeared on his face as he worked. Bill noted there was a brown-red speck on the wizard's robes and he wondered if it was blood. Healer Fisk pointed the wand at Bill's back and he made a sound of distaste. A moment later he stepped back.

"Good news, nothing's broken. You do however have a nasty cut on your back. I'm going to clean it up and heal it up, all right?"

He nodded at the healer and stared at the mobile over Ron's bassinet as he healed Bill. It didn't take too long, luckily. Healer Fisk used a spell to heal his back, and Bill was feeling hopeful about not having to drink any potions.

"All right, you're healed right up." Healer Fisk smiled, putting his wand back into his pocket.

Bill managed a small quirk of his lips. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, Bill. Oh, there's one more thing."

Dread filled Bill's heart as the healer pulled a small phial from his little box. "This potion will relieve the pain and soreness. It'll be good for twenty-four hours." The wizard handed the phial of bogie coloured liquid to Bill. He opened his mouth to say 'do I have to' but then shut his mouth. There was no point in arguing.

It tasted as horrid as it looked and smelled of spoiled eggs. Healer Fisk chuckled at the face that Bill made, and handed him a small mint.

"That's for the bad breath."

"Thank you." Bill felt relieved as the coldness spread across his tongue and freshened up his mouth.

He walked over to the bassinet. Inside Ron was fast asleep, his chubby legs twitching as he dreamt. The scar on his forehead was bright red.

"We're going to be okay, Ronnie." Bill whispered. He then leaned forward and kissed Ron's cheek. "I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Bill had never visited the Auror Office before. He'd only ever seen it in passing, and earlier that morning when he'd floo called them. He always thought with the way his Dad described Aurors that it would be much cooler. It really wasn't that much different from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office – they both were cold and smelled strongly of coffee and doughnuts.

He picked nervously at the gunk under his nails as he watched Auror Mendel have a chat with his boss. Bill really didn't want to be in the office anymore. At the same time, he didn't want to go home either. Thinking of home made his stomach ache fiercely, so he focused on picking at his nails.

Ronnie was sent to St. Mungo's paediatric ward to be cared for by the healer's aides. Bill had overheard Auror Mendel ask Healer Fisk to get an expert in curses sent over to check on Ronnie.

"But, sir!" Auror Mendel was following after his boss, a tall and broad shouldered man with slicked back dark hair.

"No buts, Mendel. He was the only witness, he_ must_ attend." Without giving Auror Mendel another look, he walked swiftly out of the room.

Bill frowned watching the scene. What did that mean? A feeling of foreboding flowed through him. The feeling intensified as Auror Mendel approached him, his jaw clenched and light eyebrows furrowed.

"You doing all right, Bill?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"Um, yes sir." Bill said.

Auror Mendel nodded stiffly. "Good." There was an awkward pause. "There's a hearing set two hours from now. You'll be expected to tell your story again there, Bill."

His muscles tensed. "I-I'm going to be on trial?"

"No," the auror replied. "You'll be testifying as a witness." At Bill's blank look, Mendel sighed. "Everything that you told me, you're going to have to tell the Wizengamot. They're going to ask you questions and you'll be required to answer the best that you can. Does that make sense?"

Bill nodded slowly. "What are they going to ask me?"

"They'll ask you about You-Know-Who, and likely ask about your brother as well."

"What has Ronnie got to do with this?"

Auror Mendel squared his jaw. "Why don't we get you something to eat before the hearing?"

He motioned for Bill to stand and follow after him. With a small sigh, he slid off the swivel chair and hurried after the auror. At least he was leaving the cold office.

Paper airplanes zoomed overhead as they left the office and entered the hallway. Bill noticed that several aurors were coming in with cuts, bruises, and looking worse for wear. One witch was even sporting a very broken nose. He wondered suddenly why Auror Mendel wasn't out there going after dark wizards.

They entered a cozy room with large curtained windows. A comfortable couch sat against the wall across from them. An older wizard with a long grey beard was stood at the counter stirring his tea. He looked up when Bill and Auror Mendel entered. The man raised a bushy eyebrow after glancing at Bill.

"Gregorian set you on baby-sitting duty, Mendel?" he cackled.

"None of your business, Lafferty." Auror Mendel said with an edge to his voice. He pointed his wand at the cabinets and summoned a box of tea.

"Poor lad. Probably the first time he's ever seen an Auror and he's stuck with _you_." Lafferty raised the cup to his lips. "Who'd want to- AH." He yelped when his cup cracked. Hot tea spilled over his robes and onto the carpeted floor.

"Merlin!" Lafferty glared at Auror Mendel. He waved his broken tea cup at him in anger, "And you wonder why you're stuck baby-sitting when you can't even control your magic like a proper wizard!" He muttered a spell at his cup and it instantly repaired.

Auror Mendel's shoulders were raised in tension, but he ignored the swearing Lafferty. He stood at the counter and continued brewing his tea. At last Lafferty waltzed out of the room in a huff. The door slammed behind him.

Bill wasn't sure what had just happened or what any of it meant. He stood there unsure of himself or what to do.

"Have a seat, Bill." Auror Mendel said over his shoulder. "Do you like cauldron cakes? We've got several left in here."

"No thank you." Bill gingerly sat at the small round table. The thought of having a cauldron cake now made him queasy. Tea he could handle, though.

It was silent in the room, and it made Bill uncomfortable. Back at the burrow, there was always some sort of loud noise or sound. Usually, his siblings were crying or his mum's loud voice was scolding them. The wireless was almost always playing in the background, and usually something by Celestina Warbeck. But now it was unnervingly quiet. Bill was tempted to start screaming just to get some sound, but he couldn't be bothered.

"Here you are, lad." Bill was startled out of his thoughts. Auror Mendel had set a cup of tea in front of him. "You really don't want a cauldron cake?"

Bill shook his head and held his cup in both hands. After two seconds he let go. He thought the warmth of the tea would be comforting, but instead it seemed to burn his hands. It did nothing for the cold feeling in his chest.

Auror Mendel sat in the chair across from Bill, blocking his view of the window. Bill stared down at the dregs of tea at the bottom of his cup. His Dad took divination at Hogwarts. Back when Charlie was still a toddler, he'd make Bill a spot of tea and show him how to read the leaves. One time his Dad said he saw Aunt Muriel's lost personality in the leaves and his Mum smacked his arm with a rolled up Prophet.

He couldn't remember the last time they read tea leaves together. Tears sprung up in Bill's eyes much to his dismay. Why was everything reminding him of his home and his family?

"You're tea is going to get cold." Auror Mendel said, his tone sympathetic.

Bill took a reluctant sip of tea. He was surprised by how good it was and quickly finished the rest.

"It's _Dragonia's Finest_ tea," Auror Mendel said lightly. "It's a bit pricey, but in my opinion worth every sickle."

"It's very good." Bill agreed. "Thank you."

There was a moment of silence. Auror Mendel finished his cauldron cake and tea while Bill stared at the leaves in his cup. If he didn't know any better he thought the image was of The Grim. At this point he wouldn't be surprised if it was. Before he could contemplate it any longer, the cup disappeared.

He looked up to see Auror Mendel putting his wand away. The wizard stood up and motioned toward the couch. "You should get some rest before the hearing."

Bill stood up and hesitated. He looked at Auror Mendel. "Are you… will you be…?" His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Why was he such a baby?

The auror seemed to understand what he was trying to ask, and he nodded. "I'll be here, Bill. You'll be safe."

"Thank you."

He lowered himself onto the softest cushions and felt his body immediately relax. Bill let out a sigh of relief as he closed his eyes. Moments later he fell fast asleep.

Bill woke sooner than he anticipated by a hand gently shaking his shoulder. He was surprised that he didn't have nightmares. Earlier when he'd tried to sleep, he had been unable to.

"It's time, Bill." Auror Mendel had a glass of water in his hand. "Here, drink this. It gets hot in the courtrooms and they don't take breaks for water."

His mouth was rather parched. Bill muttered a thank you and downed the water. Auror Mendel vanished the glass once he finished.

After a quick trip to the loo, Bill followed Auror Mendel out of the break room and to the lift. The courtrooms, he said, were on level ten. Bill felt anxious. He'd seen photographs of trials that were held and there were always so many people involved.

They were one of the first people to enter the courtroom. Bill relaxed a bit. The thought of hundreds of witches and wizards staring at him as he entered was unnerving.

The room was just as dark and dreary as the black and white photographs made it to be. It was a large and square room of black stone lit by torches. At the far wall were the highest benches where a strict looking wizard was sat. He had dark hair, a narrow rectangular mustache, and wore plum coloured robes with a silver 'W' on the left side.

"Who's that?" Bill couldn't help but ask.

The Auror glanced up at the highest bench. "That is the Head of the DMLE, Bartemius Crouch. He will be presiding over the hearing."

Bill sat on the lowest level of the stands beside Auror Mendel, watching as witches and wizards flooded into the court room. There were at least fifty of them in plum robes that took a spot in the highest benches. Sitting around Bill were a couple of Healers, an older wizard with silver eyes, and several aurors. Among them was a man with a false eye that swiveled about in an unnerving fashion.

Once everyone had settled, Mr. Crouch called for their attention with the use of the sonorous charm.

"We are here today to discuss the murder of the Weasley family and the dark wizard responsible for it. I, Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, will be presiding. Absent from today's hearing is Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic.

"It is believed that the dark wizard found at the crime scene is none other than You-Know-Who. It is common knowledge that there are no released photographs of You-Know-Who. The few aurors who have survived a duel with him have conferred with our sketch artist in the DMLE. This same sketch artist is here today with his interpretations of You-Know-Who.

"These works will be compared with photographs of the corpse found at the Weasley home.

"We call Mister Baker to stand before the Wizengamot."

A short man in dull grey robes stood. In his hands were three sheets of parchment. He marched down the steps to the center of the room and stood before the interrogator.

"Mister Baker, can you tell the court your position at the Ministry and give us details on what your job entails?"

"I am a sketch artist for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and have been for thirty-seven years. I am called to the office when my services are needed."

"And can you explain what those services are?"

"Certainly, sir. I aid law enforcement by helping witnesses recreate the likeness of suspected dark wizards and missing persons."

"How many sketches have you made in your thirty-seven years at the Ministry, Mister Baker?"

"Oh, hundreds." The wizard laughed lightly.

"And how many wizards have been positively identified because of your sketches?"

"Hm," he was silent for a moment, finger tapping his chin. "In all honesty, sir, I have lost count."

"Very well. We have received records from the DMLE that state that in the last year, three dark wizards have been identified as in league with You-Know-Who and captured due to your work: Hortense Gallagher, Winston Edinger, and Lyra Solaris."

A smattering of applause sounded and Mr. Baker inclined his head. Mr. Crouch leant forward slightly.

"We would very much like to see your sketches, Mister Baker. Please enlargen them so that those in the back stands may be able to see."

Bill watched as Mr. Baker fumbled for his wand and then tapped all three parchments. One by one they floated into the air. They were nearly bigger than Mr. Baker himself. Small gasps rang out as the court caught sight of the sketches.

A hand touched Bill's shoulder, making him nearly jump in his seat. He glanced to his left and relaxed. It was just Auror Mendel. The man stared straight ahead. Bill turned his attention back to the scene and hissed in surprise.

His whole body tensed up as he caught sight of that face. It was eerily reminiscent of the look on the corpse's face. Dead dark eyes stared blankly at Bill. He glanced away, his stomach beginning to churn.

"Thank you, Mister Baker. You may sit.

"Next we call Healer Kaur to stand before the Wizengamot."

A witch with dark skin in lime green robes rose from the benches. Bill covered his mouth as he yawned. It was getting difficult to focus on the proceedings at hand. His Dad had once told him how boring these things were. It didn't help that Mr. Crouch's voice was so dull.

Time passed slowly and Bill's mind drifted. He wondered how Ronnie was doing at St. Mungo's and if they were taking proper care of him. Did they have those golden mobiles twirling above his bassinet? Was he getting enough attention?

He was startled out of his thoughts when a large photograph floated before their section of the stands. It was frighteningly similar to the sketches they'd seen just minutes ago. Bill looked down at his shoes, listening to the gasps and mumbles that ran out through the courtroom.

"Thank you, Healer Kaur, you may sit."

Bill wondered how much longer this hearing would take. It was getting hard to stomach seeing those images again. All it did was remind him of what he lost and made his heart ache.

"We will now put these images side by side."

He was torn between looking and keeping his eyes resolutely on the ground. The mutters grew louder and there was even a loud shout. Someone clearly said, 'Enough, please!'

His curiosity won out and Bill glanced up. The sketch and photograph were nearly identical. He glanced away a few seconds later. Relief swelled up within him. You-Know-Who really _was_ dead.

Around the courtroom a few witches and wizards were standing up. One was pointing at the images in amazement. Another looked as relieved as Bill felt.

"How is this possible?" A member of the Wizengamot shouted. "How did it happen?"

Other members made noises of agreement. One glanced at Bill curiously and he looked away.

"Silence please!" Mr. Crouch raised his voice. "We have a witness here today who saw the events that lead to You-Know-Who's death. We call William Arthur Weasley to stand before the Wizengamot."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Bill sat frozen in his seat. Beside him Auror Mendel was whispering, "Go on, Bill. It'll be okay. Just tell them what you told me."

"Mr. Weasley?"

He shot up from his seat. The murmurs were getting louder as he approached the center of the room. Bill glanced back to the benches and saw Auror Mendel give him an encouraging nod.

When he reached the floor he didn't quite know where to stand. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Have a seat, Mr. Weasley."

A comfortable looking blue chair appeared behind him. None of the other speakers had been provided a chair to sit in. Were they giving him preferential treatment? Bill sank into the cushions and craned his neck up to look at the highest benches. It was awfully uncomfortable. Perhaps they weren't giving him special treatment after all.

"State your full name for the Wizengamot, Mr. Weasley."

"William Arthur Weasley."

"Thank you. Our Aurors say that it was around one o'clock in the morning when the attack on the Burrow occurred. Were you sleeping at that time?"

"Um, yes sir." Bill felt confused at the line of questioning.

"What caused you to wake up?"

"I-I heard screaming. It sounded like my parents."

"That must have been very frightening. What did you think was happening?"

"I, um, I thought there was a Death Eater in the house, sir."

"What made you think that, Mr. Weasley?"

"My parents… they told me that You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters hated blood traitors like us."

A few of the members of Wizengamot frowned at that. He wondered briefly if he had said the wrong thing.

"Quite. What did you do next, Mr. Weasley?"

"I…" his eyebrows furrowed as he went over the night's events. "I put on my slippers. Dad got me a pair of those slippers that don't make a sound. He… they told me if I was in danger to put them on and leave the house."

"And why didn't you leave the house then, Mr. Weasley? What made you stay?"

His face flushed. "I… it… I knew I should've left, but I heard a sound. Like something heavy fell. I needed to know… I didn't want to leave unless I knew for sure there was a Death Eater."

"It sounded like something heavy fell?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah, and I heard someone apparating or trying to."

"What happened next?"

"I ran up the stairs and-" he choked. The mental image of his father's body flashed in his mind. Tears blurred his vision. "I saw – it was dark, and I almost tripped. I thought…" he trailed off and inhaled sharply.

"What did you see, Mr. Weasley?"

"It was my dad. He was dead." Bill refused to cry again and took another deep breath. "He wasn't bleeding or anything."

To the courtroom Mr. Crouch said, "The coroner's notes confirm this." He turned back to Bill. "Why didn't you turn back after that, Bill?"

"I heard Ron crying. There – I didn't know if my mum was alive. I needed to make sure he was okay. He's only one month, y'know."

"Where was Ron?"

"He was in his room. That's the top floor at the burrow."

"And where were you at the time?"

"Um, I was at the floor before it."

"Then what happened?"

"I ran up the stairs. I heard another thump, like something fell. I-I thought it was my mum, and-" Bill paused. "There was a laugh. I never heard someone laugh like that before. It was… it made my neck hairs stand up."

Bill paused. The Wizengamot was talking amongst themselves. A few witches and wizards were looking at Bill sympathetically. Others were had curious looks on their faces.

"Proceed."

"I ran in the room and I saw You-Know-Who. He was pointing his wand at the floor. Then I-I saw my mum on the floor. Ronnie was in her arms. You-Know-Who was pointing his wand at Ronnie."

"Did you know it was You-Know-Who at that moment, Mr. Weasley?"

"N-no. I thought it was a Death Eater. I didn't think…" Bill trailed off. "He said it. He said the killing curse."

Mr. Crouch was leaning forward in interest, as was the rest of the courtroom. "What did you see next?"

"There was a bright green light and then the room exploded. Then I fell."

"You fell?"

"The explosion made a hole in the floor."

"Did You-Know-Who fall, too?"

"Yes. When I got up, I saw him next to me. He was dead."

Bill jolted as the courtroom exploded with the sound of conversation and in some cases, applause. He looked around wide eyed. Mr. Crouch cleared his throat.

"You are sure it was the killing curse?"

"Yes sir."

"What was in the incantation?"

"Um," Bill felt nervous and looked around the room.

"It's all right to say it, Mr. Weasley. You will not get into trouble here."

"He- he said Avada Kedavra, sir."

It took a few more minutes for the courtroom to calm down after that.

"Silence!" Mr. Crouch's amplified voice echoed in the room. "What did you do after you got up from the floor, Mr. Weasley?"

"I went back upstairs."

"What made you do that?" he interrupted.

"I heard Ronnie crying, so I had to check on him."

The mutters started up again.

"So you went upstairs again?"

"Um, yes sir. I found Ronnie still in mum's arms."

"When you found him what did he look like?"

"He, um… he looked fine. There was just a cut on his forehead and it was bleeding. I cleaned it up."

"And then what did you do?"

"After that I – I called the aurors."

"What of your siblings, Mr. Weasley? Why didn't you check on them?"

Bill's stomach churned. Images flashed in his mind. The coroners' grim faces as they wheeled four small stretchers out of the Burrow. He tried to breathe. Closing his eyes he saw mops of red hair framing lifeless, terrified faces. Their eyes seemed to be accusing him. _Why weren't you there to stop him, Bill?_

"Mr. Weasley?"

"I-I didn't…" Bill hadn't checked on them, though. The truth was they hadn't even crossed his mind. What kind of an older brother was he? Stupid, stupid-

"Mr. Weasley, please answer the question."

"I didn't think. I didn't even think about them. All I could think about was mum and dad and Ron."

"I see." The only sound in the court was of the scribe's quill writing down their every word. "When you found your parents, were they armed with wands?"

His chest felt tight. Bill's hand went to his pocket, where the two wands seemed to burn. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Crouch frowned and shuffled through his papers. "There is no record of them being found at the crime scene."

Cheeks reddening, Bill pulled out the wands. Whispers and mumbles rang out. "I-I forgot I had them with me, sir."

The wizard stared at him, a hard look on his face. "Why did you take them from the scene, Mr. Weasley?"

It was a question that took him back to the dark house. He felt his hands begin to tremble. Why did he take those wands? "I don't know, sir." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry if I ruined the investigation. I just – I wanted to have them with me."

For a moment Bill wondered if he was in trouble. It was hard to imagine the stern looking Mr. Crouch would be lenient. He nodded, a slow movement, and leaned forward. His arm stretched toward him from the high bench, and he said, "I will be needing those wands to proceed, Mr. Weasley."

The word 'no' danced on the tip of his tongue. Why did he have to give them away? Bill looked at the wands in his hand and shook himself. He was being a baby again.

He reached out to give the wands to Mr. Crouch. Bill watched as they flew out of his hand and zoomed into the large palm of the wizard. Mr. Crouch set them down on his podium.

The interrogator looked down at Bill once more. "And finally, do you recall your parents placing any protections or enchantments on your youngest brother, or ever discussing the matter?"

Bill opened his mouth to respond and then paused. His first thought was 'no, they didn't' but then he thought of his mum. She'd once told him there was more to magic than simple wand-waving and funny words. There was magic in symbols and rituals and even in their own blood. Could there have been magic involved in the goodnight kiss he received every night before bed?

"I don't remember anything like that, sir." He finally said. "If they did, they didn't do it around me."

"Very well. Thank you, Mr. Weasley. You may take a seat."

Bill stood, his legs wobbling, and walked up the steps back to Auror Mendel. Once he took his seat, the auror placed his hand on Bill's shoulder.

"You did a great job, Bill."

"Thanks." Bill whispered back. He noted that his uncomfortable blue chair had disappeared from the floor.

"We now call Belenos Fisk to stand before the Wizengamot."

Bill jolted in surprise as the dark haired wizard made his way down the steps to the center of the room. In his hand was a beige envelope. He stood tall and resolute.

"Mr. Fisk, tell us your occupation and give us a brief description of your duties."

"I am a first-responder Healer, sir, and work in conjunction with the Auror office. I am called to crime scenes where I assess, examine, and heal the injured."

"And how long have you been working as a Healer, Mister Fisk?"

"Nearly three years, sir."

"Hm," Mr. Crouch leant back in his seat. "Earlier this morning you examined the Weasley boys, did you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"What were your findings?"

"I examined the infant – Ronald Weasley – first. The diagnostic spell showed him to be in good health. His only injury was the scar on his forehead."

Bill felt a sense of foreboding. The healer opened up the beige envelope and pulled out several photographs. Images of his baby brother floated around the room for everyone to see. His scarred forehead was on prominent display.

"And why is the scar not healed, Healer Fisk?"

"I was unable to heal it, sir."

"What are the standard treatments for healing scars, Healer Fisk?"

"There's the standard _curacutemo_, which heals skin afflictions within seconds. If that doesn't work we move on to _teravathisto_, which is a stronger healing spell that works on deeper tissues. Neither worked."

"Is it common for these spells to fail for seemingly normal scars?"

"No, sir. It's most unusual."

"What did you do next?"

"I used a spot of _Widdlewix's Krema_, a healing paste that works to heal the skin. I thought perhaps the dark wizard had used a rare hex or jinx that prevents standard healing spells from working."

"And what were your findings?"

"Obviously it didn't work." Healer Fisk pointed at the next set of circulating photographs floating in the air. "I was flummoxed, to say the least. There are only six St. Mungo's approved methods of healing scars."

"What are the other three?"

"Well, the other two are strong potions and only approved for use on adults. The other is a form of transfiguration. For newborns the risks outweigh the potential benefits."

"Are there methods not approved by St. Mungo's to heal scars?"

The healer frowned at the question. "There's a whole list of them, sir. Any spell not explicitly used to heal scars are not approved. New spells and potions that haven't gone through a trial period aren't approved, either."

"What about phoenix tears?"

"Undiluted phoenix tears?" The healer's eyebrows shot upward. "I don't believe that is on either list, sir."

"And why is that? I believe it is common knowledge that phoenix tears have healing properties."

"That they do. However due to the rarity of the creature, using undiluted tears would be wasteful. When the tears are available they are always used to make a large batch of healing potions. They are incredibly potent and using them undiluted would have to be approved by the Head of St. Mungo's."

"I see. Let us go back to Ronald Weasley. You used three St. Mungo's approved methods to heal his scar and they all failed. What conclusion did you draw from this?"

Healer Fisk cleared his throat. "Without testing the other three methods of scar healing I couldn't be sure, but my conclusion was that it was caused by a powerful curse."

"What kind of curse?"

"The kind of curse that isn't mentioned in _Bone's Anatomy_," Healer Fisk replied. "Of course there are several curses that can lacerate the skin and create any shape or symbol. But there are no common curses in the books that cannot be healed by the six methods we previously mentioned."

"You've heard Mr. William Weasley's witness account. He claims to have heard the Killing Curse being used against Ronald Weasley. What do you make of this?"

"Well," he coughed into his fist. "I actually did consider the Killing Curse after my examination of the infant."

Whispers broke out.

Mr. Crouch gave him a sharp look. "What made you even consider the thought, Healer Fisk, when it has been proven time and time again that there's no method to protect oneself or survive from the Killing Curse?"

"The scar is the exact replica of the wand movement for the Killing Curse, sir, which is why I considered it." He seemed to be bracing himself. "We do not know of a way to shield ourselves from this unforgiveable curse, but that does not make it impossible. Perhaps Ronald Weasley will lead us to the discovery of such a protection."

In the high stands the members of The Wizengamot had broken out into commotion. Bill saw a few older wizards shaking their heads in disbelief. Others looked excited at the prospect of evading the dreaded curse.

Mr. Crouch's voice increased in volume, "Be that as it may, Healer Fisk, just because the scar appears similar to the wand movement does not mean it was caused by that curse."

"Of course, sir. As I said early there are a myriad of curses that can cause skin lacerations. But all of those are easily remedied with healing spells or potions. I did not say it was the Killing Curse that created Ronald Weasley's scar, but we cannot rule it out entirely either."

"I have no further questions for you, Healer Fisk. You may sit."

As Healer Fisk walked back up the steps he met Bill's eye. The wizard's lips quirked up into a small smile and he nodded at him.

"We have one final speaker. We call Garrick Ollivander to stand before the Wizengamot."

Bill watched the wizard with silvery eyes in interest. Everyone knew who Mr. Ollivander was. He noted a few wizards in the benches incline their head toward him in respect. Bill remembered his dad's story about going to Ollivander's for the first time to get his wand. It had taken his dad three tries before he found the wand meant for him.

"Mr. Ollivander, how long have you been in the business of wand crafting?"

"Oh, it has been over fifty years."

"Mr. Ollivander, I would like you to identify this wand in my hand." Mr. Crouch pulled a wand from his robes.

"Of course," Mr. Ollivander said. "Cedar and dragon heart string, fourteen inches, sold to Bartemius Crouch in 1950."

"I can confirm that those are the specifications of my wand. Does the Wizengamot need further evidence of Mr. Ollivander's ability to identify wands?"

There was no response.

"All right, Mr. Ollivander. We would like you to identify the wand in this photograph for the court."

An image floated into the air. It was a bone-white colour, the handle intricately carved.

"Ah," Mr. Ollivander stared at the wand for a few moments. "Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches. This was sold to Tom Marvolo Riddle in 1938. A very powerful wand…"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Mr. Crouch mumbled. "Did you get that, Silverman?" He asked the scribe who was scribbling madly on her parchment. She nodded so vigorously that her glasses nearly fell off her face. Mr. Crouch turned back to the wandmaker.

"Mr. Ollivander, in your opinion, does the deceased dark wizard look anything like the young Thomas Riddle who purchased the wand?"

Everyone looked at the wandmaker expectantly. "It appears that Mr. Riddle has gotten himself involved in magic that has… changed his appearance drastically. However," he raised his voice as the Wizengamot began speaking amongst themselves. "However, those are the same eyes I encountered all those years ago at my store, of that I have no doubt."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, you may sit."

At the high benches the members of Wizengamot were still talking to one another. A few of the older members were pale, as if something terrible had just been revealed. Some were shaking their heads in anger. One old witch had crossed her arms and was shaking her head.

"What's going on, Auror Mendel?" Bill whispered.

"The Wizengamot is trying to form a conclusion about You-Know-Who." Auror Mendel met his eyes. "The evidence makes it clear that he's dead. But they still need to make a formal announcement."

Bill nodded, biting his lip. "What's going to happen to Ronnie and me?"

There was uncertainty in the auror's blue eyes. "I won't lie to you, Bill. I don't know what's going to happen."

At that moment Mr. Crouch cleared his throat and there was silence in the courtroom. "Based on the evidence come to light, the Wizengamot has come to agreement that the Dark Wizard V-v-voldemort is indeed dead. This hearing has concluded."

The volume in the courtroom rose as witches and wizards stood up from the benches. There were a few cheers and several witches and wizards were hugging one another. An elderly man had tears running down his face.

Bill looked around, unsure of what to do. He turned to Auror Mendel just in time to see a paper airplane fly into the man's hands. The auror frowned and opened up the parchment.

_Thelonius,_

_There will be a private hearing to discuss the placement of William and Ronald Weasley in my office at one o'clock sharp. Bring William with you._

_Do not be late._

_Eugene Gregorian_

_Head of the Auror Office_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Eugene Gregorian's office was meticulously organized and clean. There was a small desk of mahogany with a silver nameplate near the small windows covered by grey curtains. To the right of the desk was a matching shelf filled with pristine looking books. Not a parchment was out of place on the wizard's desk. The walls were bare of décor.

All in all, Bill thought it was a very _boring_ office. He was sat in a wooden chair that made his bum fall asleep and wanted very much to leave. Next to him was Auror Mendel, who sat as stiff as a board. Bill wondered if the auror ever relaxed.

At the head of the desk was Head Auror Gregorian, the bulky man from earlier. He sat in a comfortable looking swivel chair and had his hands clasped on his desk. His dark eyes landed on Bill, and the boy was startled by their intensity.

"I am afraid, Mr. Weasley, that we could not locate any living family members for you and your brother to live with."

"What?" Bill almost shouted but caught himself. "But – but there are dozens of Weasleys! What about my – my uncles? My grandparents and…" he trailed off.

"I'm sorry, William." He didn't sound sorry in the least. "My aurors informed me during the hearing. Your family was attacked earlier today by Death Eaters. We believe that You-Know-Who ordered it before his demise. There are no survivors."

"But… but I just saw gran yesterday?" Bill's head was spinning.

"I know it's a lot to take in, son, but-"

"Why?" Bill demanded, glaring at Mr. Gregorian. "Why did they want to – to kill my whole family?" There was a note of hysteria in his voice.

"I don't have an answer to that."

"Well you're a sorry excuse for an Auror, then." Bill spat.

For a split second it felt like the temperature in the room dropped. Mr. Gregorian's eyes seemed to flash. But perhaps Bill had imagined it, because seconds later Mr. Gregorian was staring at him with indifference. "Be that as it may, William, we still need to find a home for you and your brother. Are there any families you'd like us to consider before finding you a permanent home?"

"I don't know any other wizarding families."

"Very well." Mr. Gregorian flicked his wand and a sheet of parchment zoomed out of his desk drawer. "We will place you and your brother with the Tonks family for the next four weeks." Mr. Gregorian grabbed a self-inking quill and signed the parchment. "Mendel, take the Weasley boys to their temporary home."

"Yes sir." The auror nodded.

Without bothering to look up from his parchment, Mr. Gregorian said, "You two are dismissed."

Auror Mendel stood and motioned for Bill to follow. The moment they left the office, Bill let out a breath.

"Your boss is a right arse!" The words burst out of Bill before he could reign them in. Realizing his error he tensed up.

To his surprise, the auror let out a laugh. It transformed his face and made him look much kinder, in Bill's opinion. The other aurors were looking at their co-worker in shock, as if they'd never seen him laugh before. Seeing that the wizard wasn't mad, Bill relaxed.

"Come on, Bill. Let's go get your little brother." Auror Mendel chuckled again, shaking his head.

They floo'd to St. Mungo's and made their way to the paediatric ward on the first level. Bill was familiar with the area, having been there five times after the birth of his brothers. Auror Mendel led them to the nursery, where Ron was being cared for.

A witch in lemon coloured robes noticed them and greeted them with a friendly smile on her face. "Hello, I'm Healer's Assistant White. Can I help you?"

Auror Mendel tapped his wand against his badge. "I'm here to pick up Ronald Weasley."

"Ah, I see." Ms. White said. She flicked her wand and a clipboard appeared. "What did you say your name was, sir?"

"Thelonius Mendel. Auror."

"Thank you very much." She scribbled something onto the clipboard and it popped away. "Come on in."

The nursery was just as Bill remembered. There were eight rows of white bassinets, above each one was a mobile that twirled round and round. There were two healer's assistants tending to what looked like twins. Bill's smile dropped. Fred and George would've turned two years old...

"Here he is." Bill turned around to see Ms. White holding a redhead in her arms. "He's just been fed and he's got a clean nappy."

"Great." Auror Mendel took the infant into his arms. "Thank you."

They made their way back to the reception area and to the fireplaces. Since Auror Mendel's hands were occupied, Bill grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the flames. They turned a chilling green.

"Thank you, Bill. The address is 50 Rosewood Lane." Auror Mendel said. "You can go on ahead first. "

Bill nodded, stepped into the flames, and repeated the address. He felt himself whoosh through the network and passed by several dark grates. Seconds later he skidded out of the fireplace and almost fell to the floor.

"William?"

He looked up to see a fair haired wizard with kind eyes. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment at being caught almost falling.

"Mr. Tonks?"

Seconds later Auror Mendel strode out of the fireplace with an ease that made Bill jealous. Ron whimpered in his arms.

"Good afternoon, Ted." Auror Mendel nodded at the man.

"Good to see you, Thelonius. It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Mr. Tonks smiled. "Ah, and this must be little Ronald. May I?"

A sad look crossed Auror Mendel's face as he handed Ron over to Mr. Tonks. It disappeared so fast that Bill wondered if he had imagined it. "Here you are, Ted."

Mr. Tonks gave little Ron a warm smile. "Welcome to the Tonks residence, Ronnie."

Bill couldn't help but feel a bit ignored when Mr. Tonks began a conversation with Auror Mendel. He tuned them out and decided to investigate his temporary home.

It was very different from the Burrow, Bill decided. The ceilings were high, the walls were covered with dark green wallpaper, and the furniture in the room looked expensive and modern. A strange black box sat in the corner of the room. He stepped forward to inspect it when someone tapped his shoulder.

Bill turned around in surprise to see a girl with bubblegum pink hair. She wore muggle clothes instead of robes, and had on miss-matching socks.

"Hi!" She chirped. "My name's Tonks, what's your name?"

"Um, I'm Bill."

Tonks grinned, revealing a missing canine tooth. "Wotcher, Bill!" She grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. "I like your freckles."

Bill blinked. "…Thanks?"

"Do you like mine?"

He was beginning to wonder if she was mad. "You don't have any," he said slowly.

"Oh, damn." Tonks wrinkled her nose. Bill's jaw dropped when millions of freckles popped into existence on her face. "How about now?"

"Whoa!" Bill stared at her in wonder. "You're a metamorphmagus!"

"Wicked, right?" Her eyes, he noticed, were turning electric blue. "I can't go to muggle primary cuz my parents are 'fraid the teachers will notice my face changing."

"So you're homeschooled?"

"Yep." She leaned forward and whispered, "My dad's teaching me everything he knows."

Bill didn't know how to respond, so he kept his mouth firmly shut. He wasn't used to talking to girls. Now that he thought about it, he didn't think he'd spoken properly to a girl that wasn't his mum, grandmum, or Aunt Muriel. As the sadness starting clawing at his chest, Tonks piped up.

"Wanna watch the telly?"

"The what?"

"Oh yeah, you're a pureblood. Mum mentioned that, I think, but I wasn't paying attention." She grinned. "C'mon, Bill, the telly's great."

"Dora?" Mr. Tonks called from a few feet away. Tonks groaned.

"I didn't do anything this time, I swear."

Mr. Tonks approached them, an amused look on his face. "Feeling guilty, are you?"

"No!" Her hair turned an ash brown. Mr. Tonks raised an eyebrow. "I'm not!"

"You're not? Alright. Can I see your maths work, then?"

"I-well…"

"I thought so. Go on, Dora, finish your maths."

Tonks grumbled and stamped up the staircase. Her father shook his head slightly and turned to Bill. "That's my little Dora. She can be a handful."

Bill didn't speak but mentally agreed.

"I wish I could stay longer, but I have to get going." Auror Mendel said. "It was nice seeing you, Ted."

"You're leaving?" Bill frowned.

"Yes." Auror Mendel had a sad smile on his face. "If you ever need anything, Bill, feel free to owl me."

"But I don't have an owl."

"Don't worry, son," Mr. Tonks said. "We've got two owls."

"Oh."

"I'll be back in a week to check in on you." Auror Mendel said. "Take care, Bill." He turned to Mr. Tonks. "You too, Ted. Say hello to Andromeda for me."

Moments later the auror was gone. Bill watched the emerald flames disappear and couldn't help but wish Auror Mendel had stayed. At least then Bill wouldn't be alone with strangers.

"He'll be back, son. Now come along, don't you want to see your new bedroom?" Mr. Tonks smiled.

Bill wasn't really interested at all, but not wanting to be rude he nodded and followed the wizard up the spiral staircase. His eyes were drawn to the frames hanging on the walls. There were only two wizard portraits of the Tonks family. The rest were motionless, but not lifeless like his Mum had once commented.

"It's right this way William." Mr. Tonks' voice caught his attention and Bill hurried up the rest of the stairs.

Mr. Tonks stood in front of an open door and waved Bill in. It was a very warm and welcoming room with canary yellow walls and large open windows. Like the rest of the house, it dark wood flooring and expensive matching furniture.

"Where's Ron going to sleep?" Bill frowned. There wasn't a bassinet in the room.

"Dromeda and I have Ron's bed set up in our bedroom. He'll be safe there." Mr. Tonks said in a reassuring manner. "No one is going to hurt Ron again. Not while Dromeda and I are alive."

Bill wasn't so sure about that. They were only going to stay at the Tonks house for four weeks… at least, that's what Mr. Gregorian said. How was Mr. Tonks so sure that no one would hurt Ron? Once the four weeks were up who knew where they would go next.

He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

"Have you gotten any sleep at all, son?" Mr. Tonks interrupted his thoughts.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Two hours."

Mr. Tonks frowned. "You've only had two hours of rest?"

"'s been a long day." Bill shrugged. "And I don't want to sleep." It was kind of true. If he slept he was sure he'd have nightmares.

"Stay here, I'll be right back."

He watched Mr. Tonks leave the room, rocking Ron in his arms. Bill was at a loss of what to do. This wasn't his home. No place would ever be his home, no matter what the Ministry said. He wanted to go back to the Burrow.

Bill wandered toward the window and peered outside. Rain pelted the glass and the ground. The clouds above were almost black in colour. Unlike the Burrow, the Tonks backyard was tiny and fenced in with no space to go flying. No, there was no way he could live with the Tonks family.

Footsteps approached and Bill turned away from the window. Mr. Tonks entered the room, a tiny phial in his hand.

"I brought you a potion for dreamless sleep. It'll give you some much needed rest."

He looked at the crystal phial that held a bright purple liquid. It looked familiar to something he'd seen in his mum's potion cabinet. Bill didn't think he'd ever had dreamless sleep potion before.

"I… thank you." Bill took the potion from him and hesitated before downing the liquid. To Bill's surprise it was flavourless and fast acting. He handed the empty phial back to Mr. Tonks and yawned.

"Get some rest, son. You need it."

Bill nodded and yawned again. Kicking off his shoes he fell onto the softest mattress he'd ever slept on. He was fast asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It was four o'clock in the morning and Bill was wide awake. He couldn't remember having any nightmares or dreams at all much to his relief. Bill was sat by the windowsill staring at the dark morning sky. He felt lost and missed his mum. She would know exactly what to say and do to make him feel better.

He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them in close. Bill thought about what Mr. Gregorian said yesterday about the rest of his family being dead. Had the aurors caught the Death Eaters who killed them? Were they on trial at this moment, or perhaps already in Azkaban? He didn't know.

Bill stood. He was going to find out.

Tip-toeing down the hall, Bill learned that the Tonks family didn't have _any_ candles in their house. He bumped into a wall and froze. When he didn't hear any sign of Mr. and Mrs. Tonks waking up, Bill continued his journey down the staircase.

Every time a step or floorboard squeaked Bill stood stock still and winced. He was so unfamiliar with the Tonks' house. It made his heart ache as he thought of home. Bill had memorized every noisy floorboard and step in the Burrow and knew how to sneak around without waking anybody. Here he was out of his element.

Eventually he made it to the ground floor and relaxed slightly. The darkness put him on edge. Phantom thuds and shrieks looped in his head, making his heart work overtime. How did muggles light their houses again? Bill wasn't sure. He leaned his head against the doorframe, eyes closed, and tried to pull himself together.

"Wotcher up to, Bill?"

Bill's heart leapt into his throat and he jumped a mile high. He turned around and glowered at the wide eyed Tonks standing in front of him. A beam of bright white light shone in his face and hurt his eyes. He protected his face with a hand.

"Don't bloody do that!" he whispered. "And what's that?" He pointed at the light.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Tonks whispered back. The light was no longer pointed at his face and he could see she looked sincere. Her hair looked like a cloud of golden wool.

"I'm not scared," Bill scowled. "I just – I don't like the dark." Once his heart stopped racing, he added, "Why doesn't your house have any candles?"

Tonks giggled and Bill's scowl deepened. "We don't have candles cuz we don't _need_ candles, silly. We've got electricity."

"I don't know what ecletricity is." Bill's frustration was starting to mount.

"_E-lec-tri-ci-ty_," she said. "It's this." She shined the light in his face again and he immediately covered his eyes.

"Stop it!"

"So, wotcher up to?" Tonks was bouncing on the balls of her feet. She suddenly stopped and narrowed her eyes. "You're not going to steal anything, are you?" Her golden hair turned jet black.

"What? No!" This was the most offensive girl he'd ever met. Bill then realised this was the only girl he'd ever met.

She stared at him for a few seconds longer and then leaned back. Her face broke out into an easy grin. "Just checkin'."

Bill, annoyed and confused, decided that the best way to deal with Tonks was to ignore her. Unfortunately that was easier said than done.

"Are you trying to find the kitchen?" She whispered. "Cuz it's that way," she used her electricity to point at a room down the hall.

"I'm not trying to find the _kitchen_." Bill replied.

"Oh." She was quiet for a second. "Then what _are_ you looking for?"

"It's none of your business."

"Actually, this is my house, so it is my business thank you very much."

"Fine! I'm looking for a newspaper."

Tonks looked at him as if he had two heads. "You're sneaking around at night to find a _newspaper_?"

"Newspaper, wireless, anything that'll tell me who killed my family!"

Her mouth made a small 'o' and her eyes grew large and droopy. For once she was silent. Bill turned away. He was getting tired of seeing that look on everyone's face.

He felt a gentle touch on his wrist and looked down to see a small hand encircling it.

"Come on," Tonks said. "There's a wireless and tons of papers in my dad's office."

She led him down the hall, her hand around his wrist the entire way. When they reached the room she let go and motioned for him to enter.

Like the rest of the house it was dark. Bill was starting to wonder if the Tonks family loved darkness when the room was suddenly filled with a warm light. He turned around to see Tonks' hand leave a switch on the wall. She shut the door behind her.

"How…?"

"I told you already, electricity." Tonks interrupted. She stumbled over her feet in her haste to get to the desk. "Come here."

On the desk was a wireless. Tonks had a frown on her face as she messed with the knobs. When another minute passed and she still couldn't get it going, Bill stopped her.

"Here, let me do it."

Her hair turned tomato red and she scowled.

"I can do it! Dad showed me… once."

"I'm not saying you can't do it," Bill placated. "But I've been using the wireless since I was three." He eyed the multitude of knobs before turning three. Bill was rewarded with the sound of Celestina Warbeck's voice. It brought forth a memory of his mum in the kitchen flipping a pan with sizzling eggs. Bill immediately turned the dial.

A few more turns and he reached the talk-show his Dad always listened to after work.

The calm, cool voice of Adrian Bangle filled the room "-for those who haven't heard the news, Minister Bagnold released a statement yesterday proclaiming that You-Know-Who is dead."

"How anyone could miss that bit of news is beyond me." His co-host Don Trimble laughed. "The fireworks going off all over the country should be enough to clue you in that something's happened."

"For all of you listening at home, please refrain from setting off fireworks in celebration. There have been reports in the muggle news about them _and_ the multitude of owls travelling to and fro. If you need to communicate with loved ones, floo call instead."

"Do the muggles even know what's going on?" Don sounded skeptical.

"Perhaps not," Adrian replied. "But if we keep breaking the Statute of Secrecy so blatantly they will figure it out."

"Well remember, the Minister asserts her inalienable right to party."

The two laughed heartily at that. There was a brief pause, the sound of parchment shuffling around filled the room.

"In other related news, two confirmed Death Eaters were sent to Azkaban yesterday after a heated trial. They were arrested by aurors around one o'clock in the morning after they were found slaughtering members of the Weasley family."

Bill's breath hitched and he focused on their every word.

"The Death Eaters in question were Bellatrix LeStrange nee Black and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy."

"With a name like that it's not hard to believe." Don quipped.

"Aurors received an anonymous tip regarding an attack on Septimus and Cedrella Weasley. When they arrived on the scene they found LeStrange using the Cruciatus Curse on the couple and laughing in a deranged manner. A duel ensued, but LeStrange was no match for the Ministry's finest Aurors."

A tear slid down Bill's cheek. Guilt ate away at his heart. Just two days ago his grandmother had been at the Burrow. She'd kissed him on the cheek in greeting and he'd wiped it away saying 'gross.' In that moment he hadn't thought twice about the hurt look on her face.

"...was unexpected. The Aurors put up a shield charm just in time. Septimus and Cedrella did not survive the explosion."

"Terrible. It's truly terrible what happened to 'em." Don sighed.

"Reports say it was LeStrange herself who provided information on the other attack happening across the country. She was taunting the Aurors during their duel, clearly believing she would be the winner." Adrian continued.

"Aurors apparated to the home of Octavius and Aurora Weasley. They entered the home in time to see Lucius Malfoy use the Killing Curse on their child. Upon realising he was caught, he immediately plead that he was an innocent victim of the Imperius Curse."

"That didn't go down well in court now did it, Adrian?"

"It did not. Barty Crouch authorized the use of veritaserum on the suspected Death Eaters. Under the serum Malfoy admitted to using the Killing curse on all five Weasleys and lying about his Imperius Curse defense."

"More news coming up after this quick break," announced Don.

A catchy tune began to play, but Bill tuned it out. It seemed that his entire family really was dead. Uncle Bilius had died years ago, and Uncle Gideon and Fabian were killed a few months prior. He turned around and was startled by how close Tonks was standing by him.

"I'm really sorry, Bill." She said, eyes a dull blue and hair mousy brown. "You must be really sad."

"Yeah," Bill swallowed. "I am."

Without warning Tonks pulled him into a tight hug. It took him by surprise. His eyes darted around in a panic before he remembered that he was safe. No one was going to hurt him. Bill relaxed and hugged Tonks back.

"Please don't be sad anymore." Tonks said into his chest. "When people are sad it makes me sad."

Bill's first instinct was to snap at her for trying to tell him what to do, but he quelled the instinct. She was just seven years old – Charlie's age, he realised with a pang. Tonks was probably just trying to help.

Instead he replied, "I'll try not to be sad."

She let go of him abruptly and smiled at him. "That's good enough for me!"

The moment was ruined by Bill's stomach, which gave a loud growl. His face flushed in embarrassment. It was in that moment that he realised he hadn't eaten in a very long time.

"Wanna sneak into the kitchens?" Tonks said, bouncing on her feet. "My dad bought these really yummy snacks from the market."

"Sure." How could Bill say no to food when he was starving?

Together the two left the office and tiptoed through the dark hallway to the kitchen. Tonks used her portable light (Bill had a feeling it wasn't actually called electricity) and pointed it at the kitchen cupboards.

"He put them up there." Tonks whispered. "Lift me up, Bill."

"What?" Bill hissed. "No way."

"Well I'm not going to stand on the counter!" Tonks retorted. "I've done it before and last time I fell and hit my head."

"Well what if I accidentally drop you and you hit your head anyway?"

"Why would you drop me?"

"Because you're too heavy."

At that, Tonks' jaw dropped and placed her hands on her hips, the picture of outrage. Her hair was turning a fiery red even brighter than Bill's own.

"Are you calling me _fat_?"

Bill winced. "That's not what I meant!"

"I don't believe you." Tonks was pointing a finger at him.

"I just meant that I'm not strong, okay?" Bill's cheeks were bright red in embarrassment. "I'm no Quidditch Beater, Tonks."

"Oh." Her anger vanished along with the redness of her hair. "Well why didn't you just say so?"

The temptation to slap his hand against his forehead was strong, but Bill managed to keep a hold of himself.

"What's up there that's so good, anyway? Why can't we check in here?" Bill opened the bottom cabinets only to find dishes and cutlery.

"Because there's nothing _there_, Bill." Tonks whispered. "All the best snacks are at the top. My dad puts them there so I can't get to them. Just lift me up!"

"Oh fine!" Bill sighed. He never liked giving his younger brothers piggyback rides and this would be no exception. Tonks wasn't as heavy as he thought, but her feet kept jabbing into his sides. "Can you reach it?"

"Get closer, Bill." She hissed. "I can almost grab it."

"Would you stop kicking me?"

"I'm not doing it on purpose. There I got it!" Bill glanced up to see Tonks holding something in her arms, a look of triumph on her face. "Woohoo-whoa!"

Tonks leaned backward and Bill yelped as he toppled down to the ground. Whatever Tonks had in her arms fell with a loud CLANG. The sound rang in Bill's ears.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?"

The light switched on and Bill narrowed his eyes as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. Standing in the doorframe was a pretty lady with brown hair and large eyes. Her hands were on her hips and a delicate eyebrow was raised high.

"Nymphadora Tonks-"

"It's just _Tonks_, mum!"

"You pick up this mess and go back to bed."

"But _mum_," Tonks whined. "We were just getting something to eat. Bill's hungry, mum! Don't be evil."

Mrs. Tonks flinched at the word and for a split second she looked wounded. It disappeared without a moment's notice and turned her gaze to Bill.

"It's been a while since you've eaten, hasn't it?" It was more of statement than a question.

Bill nodded. He brushed off the nonexistent dirt from his trousers.

"Very well." Mrs. Tonks pulled her wand from her pocket. Seconds later a square tin of biscuits shot out of Tonks' arms and back into the cupboard.

"Hey!"

"We do not eat biscuits for breakfast, Nymphadora. You ought to know better than that." Mrs. Tonks sent her daughter a look.

"Yes mum."

Mrs. Tonks ushered them into the living room while she made them a snack. There, Tonks introduced Bill to the telly she mentioned earlier, and he sat there fascinated by the moving pictures. Right in the middle of a chase scene, Tonks poked Bill hard in the shoulder.

"What?" Bill frowned.

"Thanks for helping me get the biscuits."

"Why are you thanking me? We failed. We didn't get to eat them!"

Tonks rolled her green eyes. "So? You still helped me and that was nice." She looked back at the telly. "I always wanted a brother."

"I'm not your brother." The words came out immediately.

"I know," came Tonks breezy reply. "I didn't say you were. I said I wanted one."

Bill watched her hair shimmer and go through several different shades of brown before settling on an auburn colour. Though his mum never mentioned it, everyone knew she always wanted a girl. Bill wondered what life would have been like if she'd had a daughter after Ron. Would his sister be super girly, or more like Tonks?

"I've never thought about having a sister… but I always wanted a friend."

Tonks turned her head. She had a big toothy grin on her face. He noted that she was missing another tooth.

"Wanna be friends, Bill?" Her face started sprouting freckles.

Bill smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Bill's shoes made squelching noises in the muddy grass as he approached the Burrow. There had been a terrible wind and rain storm last night in Ottery St. Catchpole. Stray pieces of roofing littered the patchy grass.

A whole year had passed since the attack at the Burrow. The Ministry had decided that the family best suited for caring for Bill and Ron was the Tonks family. It was a moment that they celebrated at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

That was the first time that Bill experienced being a 'celebrity.' Bill and Tonks had been sitting side by side, enjoying their ice cream, when someone shouted "there's Ron Weasley's brother!" A crowd of people had huddled around them, wanting to shake Bill's hand, and his ice cream fell to the ground. That moment was photographed and ended up in the Daily Prophet the next day.

He hated the fame. Mr. and Mrs. Tonks received so many owls and visitors that they had to relocate to a more remote area. Bill had felt so guilty and begged them to stay, but Mr. Tonks wouldn't take no for an answer. Tonks in particular had been upset about leaving the house. Bill understood. It was her home, like the Burrow was his home.

They lived in the country in a small wizarding community now. On the outside it looked small and abandoned. That was all thanks to Mrs. Tonks enchantments. Anyone who didn't live in the house saw a dilapidated shack. Bill thought it was clever.

To everyone's surprise, Bill took to the house the quickest. It's all magic nature reminded him of the Burrow, and he found himself helping Tonks adjust. Sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, Bill would find her looking at photographs of her old house.

As much as he liked living in The Middle of Nowhere Manor, as they called it, Bill found himself thinking of the Burrow often. He had mentioned it in passing to Mr. Tonks last weekend. Bill suspected that was the reason why they were here now that they've finished their errands.

Mr. and Mrs. Tonks were several feet ahead of him. A few steps behind them was Tonks, who was sporting fiery red hair and freckled skin to match Bill.

He looked up from the ground at the Burrow. His eyes were drawn to the roof of the uppermost floor. A giant hole was visible from the explosion that had happened when the Killing Curse failed. Seeing it made Bill wonder how they had survived.

His eyes drifted down the building to the memorial. It was a stone statue of his family. His mum and dad stood, hands clasped together. Standing in front of his dad was a figure of Bill. In his mum's arm was a tiny bundle that he suspected was Ron. The rest of his brothers stood around their parents.

Bill stopped in front of the statue. A hand touched his shoulder.

"You all right, son?" It was Mr. Tonks.

"I'd like to be alone, please." Bill replied.

The hand left his shoulder. "Of course, Bill."

He waited until his footsteps faded into the distance. Bill let out a breath and looked up into the faces of his parents. It was almost as if his mum and dad had simply been turned to stone.

"Mum? Dad?" he whispered. They stared straight forward, smiles on their faces as if evil didn't exist in the world. Bill blinked back tears. He swore he wouldn't cry anymore. He was almost eleven for Merlin's sake!

"I wish you were here." Bill mumbled. "The Tonks' are nice and all, but it's not the same."

He didn't know how long he stood there, talking to the statues of his parents, telling them about the long year and reminiscing about the old days. Bill talked about Ron and how the now one year old was walking and learning new words every day. Revealing his innermost thoughts and feelings to them lifted a weight from his shoulders.

"Tonks- er, Dora- said that good souls go to heaven when the body dies. She says that sometimes parents and grandparents can watch their family from the clouds."

Bill let out a frustrated sigh. "I got mad at her and told her she was being stupid. She didn't talk to me for a week…" A gust of wind blew his hair into his eyes. "If you could hear me – really hear me – you'd let me know, wouldn't you?"

The wind died down and all was quiet in Ottery St. Catchpole. Bill tried to smile but failed. "I thought so."

Turning around Bill scanned the area for Mr. and Mrs. Tonks. He spotted them near the gardens watching a group of gnomes try to kick a rock around. Mr. Tonks looked fascinated while Mrs. Tonks had a look of disgust on her face.

"Wotcher, Bill." Tonks poked his arm. She followed his line of sight and said, "Dad's never seen a real gnome before."

"And you have?" Bill raised an eyebrow.

Tonks made a noncommittal noise and then grabbed Bill's wrist. "C'mon, we need to save him from getting bit."

He tried to protest but decided there was no point. "They won't bite him unless he has a go at them."

"Are you sure?" She pointed at an angry gnome that was stepping toward her father in a threatening fashion.

"Oh, bollocks."

The gnome had not liked Mr. Tonks. Mrs. Tonks sighed as she swirled her wand around the bite mark on her husband's hand. Tonks was chortling at the exaggerated faces her father made. Bill watched in fascination as the skin sewed itself together, leaving a thin white scar.

"We'll put some _Widdlewix's_ on it at home." Mrs. Tonks put her wand away and gave her husband a stern look. "Have you learned your lesson, Ted?"

He had the decency to look sheepish. "Er, yes Dromeda."

Tonks nudged Bill with her elbow and whispered, "Told you he needed to be saved."

"Well, then. Let's go home. We've had a long day out." Mrs. Tonks tried to take her daughters hand but she slinked away.

"I want to side apparate with dad this time. He doesn't make me sick up." Tonks gripped her father's good hand.

Bill stepped toward Mrs. Tonks with an outstretched hand. "I'll side-apparate with you. I don't know what Dora's talking about, you're very good at side-apparition."

The witch smiled wryly at him. "Thank you for the complement, Bill."

Mr. Tonks was the first to disapparate. Mrs. Tonks waited a few moments, wanting to prevent any apparition accidents, before turning on the spot. Bill felt that familiar sensation of being squeezed through the tiniest tube before they reappeared in the living room of The Middle of Nowhere Manor.

There was an awful lot of yelling when they arrived, startling Bill. Mr. Tonks mellow voice was raised at an alarming volume. Mrs. Tonks' cousin, Sirius Black, stood before him looking very much like he'd seen a ghost. Beside him was Tonks, whose hair had gone mousy brown.

"-I swear, Ted, I didn't think-" Sirius was interrupted by Mrs. Tonks.

"Sirius, what's going on?"

"Andy," his eyes were wide and his voice desperate. "I'll find him, Andy I swear on Merlin's bloody grave I will."

Bill inhaled sharply when he realised what Sirius was talking about. He felt his fingertips start to go numb.

"Find wh-" Mrs. Tonks gasped. "Where's Ronnie?" Her hands shook. "Sirius, where is he?" Her voice cracked.

"I...I don't know." Bill had never seen Sirius look so devastated.

"We trusted you, Sirius!" Ted shouted. "We trusted you and you go and lose him. How could you be so – so reckless?"

"Daddy, stop it!" Tonks screamed. "It's not his fault. Sirius would never hurt Ronnie!" She grabbed Sirius' trembling hand.

Sirius met Bill's eyes and his skin seemed to take on a greenish tint. Mr. Tonks was arguing with Dora, and Mrs. Tonks was muttering swears under her breath, but Sirius seemed to have tuned it all out. He let go of Tonks' hand and stepped toward Bill.

"Bill," Sirius fell to his knees in front of him. "Bill I'm so, so sorry. I never – never," he shook his head multiple times.

Bill felt an emptiness in his chest. "What happened, Sirius?"

The room went quiet. "I had Ronnie with me here in the living room. We were working on his blocks," Sirius let out a bitter laugh. "I was knackered. Been more than a day since I last slept, so I wasn't thinking straight…

"I only meant to take a nap. I thought I charmed that clock to chime in half an hour but I must've botched it." Sirius shook his head. "I woke up and didn't find him in here. I checked all the rooms. Then I saw that the back door was open."

"The back door?" Mr. Tonks marched out of the living room with his wand in his hand. Sirius flinched when it slammed shut.

"The moment I realised he was missing I went out looking for him as Padfoot, but I couldn't track him. The rain must've washed away his scent."

"Sirius how long were you asleep for?" said Mrs. Tonks.

"It must have been at least two hours-"

"You should have gone to the DMLE immediately!"

"Andy, they don't file a missing person's report until twenty-four hours have passed!"

"He is the Boy Who Lived, they would have made an exception!" She shouted.

Sirius stood. "I'll go then. I'll go to the DMLE right now." He started marching toward the fireplace.

"No. No, Sirius!" Mrs. Tonks followed after him.

"Bill, are you all right?"

Tonks looked at him with concern, her irises a dull brown. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Instead he shook his head. It felt like the walls were closing in on him. He needed fresh air, and he needed it now.

Without warning, Bill ran out of the room. He heard several shouts but ignored them. The back door slammed behind him as he sprinted into the tall grass. Frigid rain pelted his exposed skin.

"Ronnie!" Bill shouted. He looked around the field with bleary eyes. There were trees in every direction he looked. "Ronnie!" His voice cracked.

The wind howled, blowing rain directly into his face. He wiped his face with a hand and made his way up the steep hill. If Ronnie was still around, Bill was sure he'd be able to see him once he got to the top.

Bill held a hand against his forehead to block the rain. The wind was picking up. A strong gust almost pushed him right off the hill, but Bill dug his heels into the mud.

"Ronnie!" His shout was carried off into the wind. Bill looked in every direction, desperate to see a head of fiery red hair somewhere among the green. Lighting struck a tree in the distance and something inside Bill broke.

He glared at the grey clouds. "I knew it was a lie!" Bill screamed. "I was right! You're not up there watching over us at all!"

Bill turned his heated gaze back to the fields. "Ron-ah!" A fierce gust of wind caught him off guard. He took a miss step and tumbled down the hill. Bill sputtered, his face covered with mud. Flopping onto his back the rain made quick work of cleaning away the filth.

"Bill?" Mr. Tonks shouted. It sounded like he was far away. "Bill!"

"Mr. Tonks?" Bill coughed.

Footsteps slapped against the wet grass and grew louder with each step. Bill turned his head and blinked the rainwater away. Mr. Tonks was running toward him, wand outstretched and eyes worried.

Mr. Tonks crouched in front of him. "What are you doing out here, son?" He pointed his wand at Bill and started casting spells. Bill felt his body warm up. A raincoat appeared out of thin air and wrapped itself around him.

"I went to look for Ronnie." Bill coughed again. "Mr. Tonks, we have to keep looking."

"We?" Mr. Tonks shook his head. "We are going straight home." He helped Bill up to his feet.

"We can't go home." Bill hissed. "Ronnie's still out there! He's-

"You can't stay out here, you'll catch your death." Mr. Tonks put a hand on Bill's back and gave him a gentle push forward. "Let's go,"

Bill tried to object but found that he couldn't. He glared at Mr. Tonks for silencing him. It was about a five minute walk back to the house. Bill had traveled farther than he realised.

He entered the house and all conversation died down. Mrs. Tonks was sat on the couch with Tonks beside her. Sirius was nowhere to be found. Bill wondered what he had missed.

"Bill!" Mrs. Tonks stood and marched over to him, a stern look on her face. "Don't you dare run off like that again. Do you know how worried we were?"

"Sorry," Bill mumbled. He glanced around. "Where's Sirius?"

She looked like she'd swallowed a lemon. "He's gone home."

"Mum banished him to his flat for eternity." Tonks added, staring at her mother with a mutinous look.

"Nymphadora, do not start."

The two began bickering over the name and Bill tuned them out. He'd heard that argument a million times in the year he'd lived with the Tonks'.

"Mr. Tonks," Bill looked up at him. "What are we going to do about Ronnie?"

There was a worry line on Mr. Tonks face. "We're going to speak with investigators and then we're going to find him and bring him home." He said this with such conviction that Bill couldn't help but believe him.

Ronnie would come home to them. He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter following Bill will be posted tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Bill stared at the red curtains that enclosed his four poster bed. His body ached and begged for rest, but his mind refused to sleep. Around him his dorm mates whispered. He knew they were talking about him – about how his brother was the Boy Who Lived. It was like the moment at Fortescue's only worse and never ending.

It first began when he stepped foot on the train. Students of all years stared at him. Some tried their best to catch his eye while others looked away the moment Bill's eyes met theirs. It was his fault, really. Mrs. Tonks tried to convince him to disguise his hair colour at least. Bill said no. He didn't want to change what he looked like. Why should he hide?

Of course his opinion changed after the third request for an autograph. By then the train had already left the platform and Bill didn't feel comfortable asking an older student to apply a colour-change charm to his hair.

It was the longest train ride of his life. He had chosen an unoccupied compartment at the very back. Bill had hoped no one would bother him back there, but he was wrong. Every couple of minutes he'd see faces pass by the compartment door window. He tried his best to ignore them.

Most students left him alone, content to peer inside the compartment and make Bill feel like a fish trapped in a bowl. Some were bold enough to barge inside and demand an autograph. Others felt compelled to tell Bill their life story and even how they've read all about him.

An hour into the ride Bill had grabbed his textbook, looked up the locking spell, and used it on the compartment door. It worked for the most part. They still stared inside when they thought he wasn't paying attention. No one dared to unlock the door and enter.

"-do you think they'll ever find-"

"-don't understand, do you? His little brother-"

"-KILLED you-know-who and he was only-"

"-feel bad for him, he must miss him a lot."

Thinking of Ronnie made his chest hurt. The Ministry had gone on a nationwide search for their boy who lived with no success. A few had even gone to the continent, but no luck. The search was still on, but Bill felt it was hopeless. He overheard Mr. Tonks on a fire call. Auror Mendel was the only one on the case. The Ministry felt Ronnie was as good as dead.

He groaned and shoved a pillow over his head to try and drown out the whispered conversations. There were six boys in his year in Gryffindor, and two of them were muggleborns. The others had taken it upon themselves to explain Bill's life to their new friends. It was irritating.

Getting sorted into Gryffindor was the best and worst moment of his life. It was the best because Bill had wanted it since he'd learned about the four Hogwarts houses. The hat had been lifted from his head and the lions had stood up and cheered. A few older students began chanting "We got Weasley! We got Weasley!"

Bill had been ecstatic and a bit overwhelmed. They made room for him at the table and he'd sat. The sorting ended and the Headmaster gave his speech before they tucked in to the food. He'd been so excited and joyful until someone beside him chirped, "I can't wait to owl my parents the news!"

His excitement was zapped out of him and he spent the rest of the feast pushing food around his plate. Bill couldn't remember what he ended up eating.

He'd never be able to owl his parents the news. Sure he could owl Mr. and Mrs. Tonks, but it wasn't the same. They were great, really. But they weren't his mum and dad and they'd never be.

Then there were the questions. Everyone had so many bloody questions that irritated Bill to no end. And they were always the same ones over and over. He wanted to tell them to shove off, but every little thing he said could end up in the Daily Prophet the next day. It wasn't worth it.

One girl, Leonora Hitchens, had the gall to ask, "What did You-Know-Who's face look like when he cast the Killing Curse?"

It had gone quiet. Jack Johnson's food had fallen off his fork and Queenie Taylor had looked absolutely scandalised.

Bill had stabbed his food with his fork and gave her a tight smile. "His back was to me, so I dunno."

In that moment Bill decided he didn't like Leonora Hitchens.

He rubbed his eyes with a fist and turned onto his side. His pillow had fallen off his ear. There was silence. It seemed that his dorm mates had finally gone to sleep. If only Bill could manage to fall asleep as well.

With an annoyed sigh he sat up in bed. It was no use. He wasn't going to get any sleep any time soon. Bill got out of bed and slipped his feet into his soundless slippers. He frowned down at them. They'd been his favourite when he was younger because of how unique they were. Since his story was released to the press their popularity surged. They were sold at _Sallow's Shoe Shop_ at Diagon Alley in a myriad of colours.

The candles in the dorm had gone out. Everyone seemed to be asleep. Bill envied them. They didn't have dark thoughts that kept them up at night.

Careful to not step on the tail of Eddie Raymond's cat, Bill left the Gryffindor boys dormitory. Torches lit the stone walls. He traveled down the staircase to the common room.

Bill glanced around the common room. It was empty except for him. The fireplace was lit and the flames crackled with life, producing the only light in the room. He trudged toward the squashy couch by the fire and sat down. His body sank into the soft cushions and his muscles relaxed.

For the first couple of months after the attack, Bill had to rely on Dreamless Sleep potion to keep the nightmares away. If he didn't use it, terrible images of his parents' mutilated corpses would have him shouting in terror and waking. It worried Mr. and Mrs. Tonks. They'd even asked him once if he wanted the memories erased.

He almost said yes.

Instead they took him to a Healer skilled in mind magic. It was all kept quiet. Bill still couldn't believe Healer Pritchett didn't talk to the Daily Prophet about his nightmares. He wondered sometimes if he'd made an unbreakable vow not to. It was a fanciful thought, but Bill didn't think Mr. or Mrs. Tonks would risk someone else's life for Bill's privacy.

Since his sessions with Healer Pritchett, Bill's nightmares were controllable. He could turn terror to fanciful dreams of unicorns and snitches if he wished. Bill no longer needed to use Dreamless Sleep potion. The only problem he had now was actually falling asleep.

Staring into the flames he felt his eyes droop. Warmth spread through his body, reminding him of his mum's warm hugs. He ran a hand over the armrest of the couch. Had she ever done this? Had she ever sat in front of the fireplace, unable to sleep? Did she ever seek comfort from the warm flames?

"Are you proud of me, mum? Dad?" Bill whispered. "I made it into Gryffindor, just like you."

The flames crackled.

"I'm going to make you proud," his eyelids drooped further. "I promise."

His eyes closed and Bill sighed, welcoming sleep. All of his progress was interrupted by a whispered shout of "Wotcher, Bill!"

He twitched and gasped. Bill's eyes darted to the flames where a familiar face was visible. He groaned outright. "Bloody hell, Tonks! Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Shouldn't you be in the dormitory?" Tonks countered with a cheeky grin.

Bill's mouth twitched. "How'd you even know I'd be in Gryffindor? Or that I'd be in the common room?"

"Puh-lease, where else would you go?" Tonks whispered. With reluctance she added, "I may have scared a snogging Slytherin couple, though."

He choked back a laugh, not wanting to make a lot of noise. "Blimey you must want to obliviate yourself after that."

Tonks laughed, her hair turning a warm orange.

"You never answered my second question." He said.

"Bill, everybody knows about your thing with the fireplace. Figuring out where you could be wasn't exactly rocket science."

"Rocket science?"

"It's a muggle thing."

"Ah," he grimaced. He suddenly remembered all of those times that he woke on the living room couch cocooned in a warm blanket he hadn't taken with him.

"So, how's Hogwarts?" Her eyes turned a bright blue. "Is it as amazing as dad tells me?"

Bill told Tonks all about the train ride, taking the boats across the black lake, and the sorting ceremony. He described the high enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Her eyes grew large as he listed the food and pudding served at the feast. She laughed at his description of Peeves at his antics.

"Argh, I want to be there now!" Tonks whined.

"Time goes quick. You'll be here before you know it." Bill assured her.

"Do you think I'll be in Gryffindor like you?"

"I don't know. Maybe, if that's what you want." He paused. "Is that what you want?"

"I don't know." Tonks said in between yawns. "Dad thinks I'll be in Hufflepuff. I don't really care where I go." She yawned again.

"You ought to go to bed." Bill said. "If your mum and dad catch you you'll be in trouble."

"I don't want to go to bed." Tonks said.

"Well you don't, but I do." Bill glanced at the clock at the back of the room. "It's late. I've got lessons in the morning."

"Oh fine. I'll go." Tonks grumbled.

"Good night, Tonks."

"Night."

Her face disappeared from the flames. All was quiet. Bill leaned against the couch with a yawn. His eyelids fluttered shut. The talk with Tonks had comforted him more than he'd admit.

Slowly Bill descended into sleep. He dreamt that he was inside a fireplace trying to reach baby Ronnie, who was stuck to the bricks with a permanent stick charm. Bill almost reached him when Ronnie started laughing, a high cold laugh that made his hair stand on end. His eyes were glowing a brilliant red. Then there was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have left kudos! Any comments or constructive criticism is appreciated. This is the last chapter that I have ready to publish. I am currently working on the next chapter. It's been a struggle trying to figure out which direction I wanted this story to go, but I think I've finally got that handled - I just hope others like it, too.
> 
> Let me know what you think of the story so far, and stay tuned!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been sixteen years since the War ended, and fifteen years since Ron Weasley's disappearance.

He would shiver if snakes were capable of it. It was a cool summer night. He resisted the urge to wrap himself around the warm body he was perched on. The wizard who carried him on his shoulders marched onward, twigs snapping and leaves crunching under his boots, as they journeyed through the dangerous forest. Creatures screeched, chirped, and howled from various distances. His hearing was poor at best, but his infrared vision was a great asset that more than made up for it. It would make the hunt much easier.

Soon he would regain strength.

His forked tongue stuck out to smell the air against his will. The fact that he wasn't fully in control of the body he inhabited prompted a cold fury to rise within him. How he hated being weak. As soon as his proper form was restored, he would find the boy and –

"Ah! My Lord, please…"

In his anger he had started to squeeze his loyal follower. He relaxed his muscles and loosened his hold on the wizard. It would not do to kill the man who had been of great use to him. After all, the Dark Lord rewarded his faithful servants.

They made an abrupt stop.

"I believe they should be in this area."

After being set on the cool ground, the hunt began. He slithered over the bristled grass, dried leaves, and twigs that covered the forest floor. Rodents, pixies, and frogs scattered as he searched for his prize. He wasn't sure how much time had passed – it was difficult to distinguish when possessing creatures.

Then, he found it. He slowed to a halt and eyed the beast. With his infrared vision, the unicorn foal's body was bright orange and yellow outlined in purple. It's ear twitched, but it otherwise hadn't a clue of the danger nearby. He was remarkably pleased by this find. If he were in his human form, perhaps he would have laughed.

He lunged.

**...**

Mike Parsons resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from his ginger brow as his Nimbus zoomed through the air. Tucked in his arm was the Quod, which was beginning to turn a brick red color, a warning of impending explosion. Their announcer noticed the Quod as well. Summerfield's voice boomed through the field, informing the audience that a blast was incoming. Mike tuned him out and dodged the bludger that was aimed at his head. Two opposing defenders in cranberry and gold robes approached at high speeds. Mike feinted to the left before yanking the handle upward, successfully avoiding collision with the two bulky players.

The pot was less than ten feet away. Guarding it was Jessica Fletcher, the Keeper for Team Thunderbird. He took a split second to glance at the Quod. It was bright red. There wasn't much time – only two minutes left in the game. As Mike flew onward, he tried not to get distracted by the sounds of the crowd in the stands, or Summerfield's annoying voice, or how the intensity in Jessica's eyes made him swallow nervously. He aimed and threw the Quod. As it soared toward the pot it turned cherry red and began to flash yellow. Mike held his breath.

It grazed Jessica's gloved hand and fell into the pot.

Cheers erupted from the stands. Students from Wampus House lifted their cranberry and viridian banners. A girl he suspected was Amanda Quagmire let a loud roar erupt from her transfigured jaguar head, startling some of the elderly teachers at the top stands. Mike watched as the timer on the scoreboard counted down to zero. A grin stretched across his freckled face.

"AND THAT'S IT, FOLKS. WAMPUS BEATS THUNDERBIRD, TWENTY TO NINETEEN." Ryan Summerfield was now standing in the announcer's box. "WAMPUS WINS THE QUODPOT CUP FOR THE FIFTH YEAR IN A ROW!"

With a whoop of joy, Mike landed onto the field along with the rest of his teammates. Their captain, Nick Hoffman, pulled him into a hug the second he caught sight of him. Mike was too ecstatic by their win to care. The feeling never got old. If Mike wasn't so certain about becoming a healer, he would probably go into Professional Quodpot after graduating from Ilvermorny.

"Hey, Mike!"

Nick released him with a pat on the shoulder and rushed off to hug someone else. Mike turned around. Jessica approached him, broomstick on her shoulder. Strands of her brown hair had come out of her ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed.

"You did good out there." She smiled.

He winced and gasped at a sudden stabbing pain in his forehead. Nausea erupted in his stomach as the pain intensified. Mike tried to smile back at Jessica, but the world around him was going slightly out of focus. The image of a snake came unbidden to his mind. He tried to shake himself out of his daze.

"Mike? I said are you okay?"

As the pain faded his world went back into focus. Mike was startled to find himself kneeling on the ground, his arm wrapped around his midsection. When had that happened? He looked around to find Jessica crouched beside him. Her small hand was on his shoulder, and her eyebrows were furrowed.

"Yeah," he said. His mouth was dry and he felt a bit shaky. "Just a really bad headache."

"Did you get hit in the head by a bludger or something? Do you need to see the nurse?"

"Nah, I'm fine. Just a random headache." Mike slowly rose to his feet. While the pain had all but vanished, the nausea stuck around like a clingy child.

"If you're sure…"

He forced a grin onto his face and tried to ignore the way his body was trembling slightly. What the hell had that been? Deep down his gut was telling him that this was something he shouldn't ignore, that he ought to contact his parents and ask… but the last thing he wanted to do was make them worry. They'd always been anxious about him joining the wizarding community ever since they first learned he was magic. There was no need to cause them any additional stress. Everything was fine.

He was fine.

After a hot shower, Mike changed into his standard blue and cranberry robes and left the locker room. His team mates must have noticed a change in his demeanor, because they gave him a wide berth as he passed through. The air was cool out on the Quodpot field and a handful of students were hanging around the stands. Among them were his two best friends, Chris Li and Amy Rodriguez. They waved as soon as they spotted him.

"There you guys are." Mike said as he approached. While the last of his shakiness had gone away, he still felt nauseated. He tried not to let it show on his face.

"Mike, you were awesome out there!" Amy shouted from the stands. She grabbed Chris by the wrist and pulled him up to his feet. Her auburn hair flew in every which direction as she ran across the field to meet Mike. Although he couldn't hear him, Mike could imagine Chris sighing in defeat as their friend dragged him along once again.

"Watch out, Amy - you'll cut off his circulation with that vice grip of yours." Mike said. "We don't want to have to amputate."

"Relax, Healer Parsons, he'll be fine." Amy said. Despite rolling her eyes she let go of Chris' wrist.

"Thanks man," Chris wiggled his fingers for a few seconds before pushing his black hair out of his eyes. "Awesome game, by the way."

The three of them began their journey back to the castle.

"Yeah, it was amazing - and you know how much I hate Quodpot, so that's saying something." Amy said.

"You and your Quidditch, Amy." Chris shook his head in disappointment.

Amy snorted. "Right. Forget the fact that Quidditch is the number one game in the world."

This was an argument that Mike had heard an immeasurable about of times during the last five years at Ilvermorny. He resisted the urge to sigh and instead tuned it out. They were getting close to the castle now. Mike was more than ready to head back to the Wampus Dormitory and take a nice, long nap.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Chris.

"You better watch your back, Mike." His friend said. His face had lost all of its amusement and he looked dead serious.

Mike frowned. "Why?"

"If you're not careful, Hoffman's gonna shove you in his suitcase and take you with him to the Big Leagues." Chris laughed.

While the mental image was amusing, Mike had to force himself to laugh. His stomach had suddenly lurched and the nausea was returning with a vengeance. He stopped in place and inhaled deeply, trying to will the feeling away.

"Mike? Are you feeling sick? You look pale." Amy suddenly touched his forehead with the back of her hand.

"I'm fine," Mike said. "Just tired."

"What, no post game party today?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not really feeling up to it, to be honest."

"So, you are feeling sick!" Amy said, picking at her glowing viridian and cranberry nails. "We should-"

"Amy, I'm fine. Seriously. I just don't feel like getting harassed by Hoffman for the next hour about why I'm not going Professional. That's all." He smiled wanly.

She didn't look convinced, and neither did Chris, but they let it drop. In an effort to return to normalcy, Mike brought up the topic of final exams, making both Amy and Chris groan. They entered the castle while moaning about their decision to take so many N.E.W.T. level classes next year. To become a healer, Mike needed to take every class he signed up for. But Amy or Chris didn't.

"I know I'm going to regret taking all of those classes. N.E.W.T. level Herbology isn't even required to go into law enforcement." Amy said, crossing her freckled arms against her chest.

"There's still time to drop it if you want." Mike said.

"No," she sighed. "Five N.E.W.T.s are still needed, may as well be a class that will actually look good to have on my transcript instead of Divination."

While Chris offered to help Amy with her Herbology homework, Mike became distracted by a throbbing pain in his head. He tried to ignore it. Sometimes that was the best thing to do when it came to pain. Instead, he focused on their destination. Mike pushed open the door of the abandoned classroom and took in the comforting sight of the room.

Tall grass grew in the spots where the stone flooring had long ago disappeared. The high ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky at all times. A small cherry tree continued to grow near the far wall, and in a circle around it were several large, grey rocks. Fairies flitted through the air, giggling and whispering among themselves as Mike passed the threshold. One landed on him and decided to make its home within his shoulder-length hair. He felt his headache fade and his body relax at the sound of the burbling water fountain near the door. Mike often wondered what spells had been placed on the classroom, because it never failed to bring him peace.

Mike laid down in the grass and stared up at the stars while Amy and Chris fought over who got to sit on the big rock. There was something about looking up at the myriad of stars in the night sky that made him wonder what they looked like in other places in the world. How many other people on the planet were doing the same thing as he right at this moment?

"Amy, give it back!"

"No! You're supposed to be relaxing, Chris, not studying."

"I'm not studying, I'm reading. It's different. That's how I relax. Now give it back!"

"Amy, whatever you took just hand it over." Mike said, not bothering to look back at them. He heard the sound of paper crinkling as Chris snatched back what Mike assumed was his newspaper. It took a lot of effort not to roll his eyes. Chris was obsessed with reading the paper. It was not surprising in the least that he would carry one around with him.

It was silent for several moments as Mike watched the stars, Chris read his paper, and Amy transfigured grass into flowers. The only sounds came from the babbling water fountain, and the occasional sound of Chris turning a page in the paper. A shooting star zoomed across the heavens. Fairies fluttered past Mike's field of vision now and again. The fairy in his hair yawned close to his ear, startling him for a moment.

"Oh no," Chris said in a soft voice. "This isn't good."

The worried tone made Mike turn to look up at his friend. There was a grimace on his face. His dark eyes moved rapidly as he read the article in his hands. Mike turned his head slightly to get a better look at the newspaper. It was a copy of the Daily Prophet that his cousin Sue would occasionally owl him.

"What does it say?" Mike said. It had been a long time since he'd seen Chris look so tense while reading a story. At Chris' side, Amy was silent, but her hazel eyes were focused intently on the paper.

"There have been three muggleborn wizards - that's British for nomajborns - that have gone missing in England since this Monday. Looks like they just found the first missing person's body." Chris pinched the bridge of his small nose. "They found him mutilated and shoved haphazardly into a dumpster in their main shopping district, Diagon Alley."

Amy hissed and Mike frowned.

"That's terrible." He said. "Why did your cousin send you that article?"

"I'm not sure… But Sue says people are worried about the disappearances. It reminds them too much about when Voldemort first came to power in the seventies."

"At least they don't have to worry about it being Voldemort since he's dead." Amy said. She picked at her nails again. "But wow. They must be scared."

"He's been dead for a while, though, right?" Mike pulled at the blades of grass, ripping them out of the ground.

"It's been sixteen years, yeah."

The conversation died away and Mike looked back up at the stars. Something about the subject made him shiver and break out in goosebumps. The thought of nomajborns going missing made him in particular anxious, since he was one. He couldn't imagine how his parents would feel receiving news of his disappearance, only to later be told they found his corpse. Mutilated. It would break them, learning the hard way how dangerous the wizarding world could be.

Mike would do whatever it took to protect them from that pain.

He would stay safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues! Here's the introduction to the next part. For those who didn't catch it - Mike Parsons is Ron Weasley, he just isn't aware of it yet. I tried two times to do a 'Ron starts Hogwarts in his first year as the Boy Who Lived' but it was just bad and boring and the thought of going through his seven years of school was overwhelming. Sorry it took so long, but I really hope you guys enjoy the direction I end up taking the story. Let me know what you think! Any guesses to how it will all end? :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort is up to no good, Bill and Tonks spend some time in Diagon Alley, and something fishy is going on at the Ministry.

“P-please,” The mudblood trembled and his voice broke as he spoke. Pathetic. “I-I’ll do anything you w-want me to. I-I”

“Enough!” Edmond LeStrange pressed his wand against the mudblood’s forehead. “You don’t get a choice. _Obliviate_.”

A flash of light enveloped the room for a split second. LeStrange stepped back and gazed at his work. The mudblood had stopped trembling. He had, in fact, ceased all movement. His dark eyes stared blankly ahead. The only indication that he lived was the rise and fall of his chest. LeStrange let his satisfaction show with a curl of his lips. His spellwork had been a success. The mudblood had lost the entirety of his memories, and was now a mere husk of a being.

Should this attempt fail, LeStrange wasn’t sure how they were to proceed. He was certain that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was aware of the missing mudbloods by now. They would be keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. Every time they left their warded hideout they risked being found. Especially with the auror’s using Potter and Black’s, admittedly ingenious, maps.

“Is it ready, Edmond?” The Dark Lord said. He slithered into the room and curled up at LeStrange’s feet.

“Yes, My Lord.” He said with confidence. This time, the possession would work. LeStrange was sure of it.

…

Bill tried to enjoy his ice cream sundae; he really did. It wasn’t that the ice cream was bad. This was Fortescue’s for Merlin’s sake, of course it was good! Especially the _Pixie Dust Peppermint_ flavour. His eyes drifted away from the sparkling bowl and across the parlour.

Summer holiday had just begun for the Hogwarts students. Packs of teenagers wandered Diagon Alley freely, and many had come to Fortescue’s to enjoy a cold treat. At a booth in the corner were three boys laughing raucously. Their friend’s face was covered in _Cracklin’ Coconut Pineapple_ which was known to sometimes explode when they added too much crackle to it. One of the boys, Bill noted, was Potter’s son.

He felt a pang of loss watching the three boys interact. Ron would be their age by now. He might have even been in the same house as them. Bill looked away when one of them caught his eye.

Tonks bounded back to his table. Her short, blonde hair morphed to a bright orange as she marched toward him, catching the eye of witches and wizards around her. Seeing their expressions almost made Bill chuckle. They lived in a world where magic was the norm, but metamorphmagi were still gawked at.

“Bill! The freeze charm will wear off soon if you don’t eat it.” Tonks said, sliding into her seat across from him. She pushed his bowl closer to him.

“Right.” Bill turned back to his sundae and had a spoonful. It was delicious, as always. “Where’d your ice cream go?”

She patted her stomach. “To its permanent resting place.”

Bill snorted. “Already?”

“Yes, _already_.” She mimicked Bill’s voice and face. It never ceased to startle him whenever she did that, and he nearly dropped his spoon. “Hurry up and finish yours!”

“Unlike you, I like to savour my food.” Bill purposefully slowed his movements down and brought the spoon to his mouth at a sluggish speed. He watched with mirth at how irritated Tonks became.

“_Bill_,” she whined. “Stop being annoying.”

“Alright, alright.”

The two talked while Bill finished his sundae. Tonks’ irises cycled through multiple shades of green while she went on about her new favourite topic: The Tri-Wizard Tournament. It took a lot of willpower for Bill to keep from making the sarcastic comments that were stood on the tip of his tongue. By the time she was halfway through her ‘Why couldn’t the Ministry bring it back in 1990?’ rant, Bill had finished his ice cream and was ready to go.

“-just imagine the look on mum’s face if I had been-”

“Didn’t you want to go to the map shop?” Bill interrupted.

“Oh, yeah!” Tonks stood. “Dad wanted to know if they had any maps of France.”

They walked the well-known path to _Black-Pottography_ and were unsurprised to find a decent sized crowd. There was a new banner slung across the window. It was an obnoxious orange that bothered his eyes. Written on it in a pleasant cursive were the words _Hogwarts Maps: 50% off for First Year students._

It had been a long time since Bill had visited the shop. A bell jingled when Tonks opened the door. As always, Bill gazed up at the ceiling. It was enchanted to look like a parchment map of the shop. Several bright red dots moved around the aisles, each labeled with the customer’s name. When he saw the dot that was _Nymphadora Tonks_ start spasming, Bill immediately looked to his side. He snorted. Tonks was doing a ridiculous dance while staring up at her own name.

“Are you an actual eleven-year-old, Tonks?”

She stopped and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Bill! Tonks!”

He looked up to see Sirius Black waving at them from the counter. The wizard motioned them over as he finished speaking to a customer.

“I didn’t know you were back, Sirius!” Tonks said. She hugged her cousin tight.

“Didn’t you get my owl, little Dora? Ouch!” He yelped as Tonks pinched him in the side. “I meant Tonks! No more pinches, please, I’m old and fragile.”

“You’re thirty-six, that’s hardly old.”

“Tell that to my hair that insists on turning grey.”

“Where’d you go on holiday this time, Sirius?” Bill said.

“Oh, I wasn’t on holiday. It was strictly a business trip.”

“Where to?” Tonks said. Her eyes had grown large and became an inquisitive blue. “Was it France, by any chance?”

“No, not France. America. The Headmistress of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has commissioned a map of the castle and grounds.”

“Really?” She said. “What was the castle like?”

“It was bigger than I expected. But it’s nothing compared to Hogwarts, of course.” Sirius went into detail about what he had seen and found interesting. Bill listened with polite interest while Tonks began to look bored. It seemed it was time to change the conversation.

“Where’s your partner in crime?” Bill said.

“James was called in to the Ministry. He didn’t tell me what it was about.” Sirius shrugged. “I assume the Surveillance Department is commissioning another map.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, what with the recent news.”

Sirius laughed bitterly. “Yes, what great use our maps have been.” He clenched his jaw and looked away from Bill and Tonks. It wasn’t any surprise that the news would upset Sirius. His wife was a muggle, and his best friend’s wife was muggleborn.

Tonks took Sirius’ hand. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Don’t say that, Sirius. Your maps have been an incredible resource to us aurors. They’ve helped aid in the capture of multiple dark wizards. Without them we’d still be trying to find The Slasher. Right, Bill?”

Bill nodded. “Tonks is right. We never would have caught her without the map of Diagon Alley.”

Sirius nodded minutely and was quiet for a moment. He patted Tonks’ hand, almost absentmindedly. When he faced them again, there was a smile tugging on his lips. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“So, what brought you two to my shop today?”

Tonks launched into conversation with Sirius about France and how her dad was curious about maps of other wizarding communities. Bill found himself tuning them out as his mind was pulled back into a series of memories. The Slasher. Their first case as rookie aurors. It had been gruesome what that dark witch did to her victims. Yet, as terrible as she’d been, those disappearances hadn’t sparked the same gut deep worry that the muggleborns had.

He watched the patrons of the shop wander, happy in their aimless idling, lively with their laughter and colourful in their summer robes. The sun shone bright through the large window panes and casted shadows on the walls. Everything appeared so vibrant and carefree. Despite this, Bill felt unease curling in his stomach.

This case was not what it seemed.

…

James stood outside the office of Wilton Fawley, Head of the Surveillance Department. He had received the summons during breakfast, which had landed promptly into Harry’s scrambled eggs. The twins had simultaneously pointed and laughed at their older brother’s misfortune, while beyond amusing to James, had resulted in a stern chastising from him and mutinous glares from Al and Heather.

Pushing the morning memories away, James knocked on the door. It wouldn’t do to keep him waiting. The man was known for his expectation of timeliness. Within seconds the door opened, revealing the tall and rotund wizard. As James met the man’s eyes, he remembered what else Fawley was known for: his piercing ice coloured eyes. 

“Ah, Potter. Come in, come in.” Fawley motioned for James to follow.

“You called for me, sir?” James said. His eyes were drawn to the wizard’s oak desk. Near the man’s wrinkled hands was an unrolled surveillance map. He settled into the cushioned seat and met Fawley’s eyes.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice. I’m sure by now you’ve heard of the muggleborn disappearances?”

“I have.” James nodded, his mouth setting into a tight line. “Is that why I’ve been called here, sir? To assist with the investigation?”

“I would like your professional assessment of this map.” He pushed the parchment forward. “It is our understanding that all labeled persons on any _Black-Pottography_ map is accurate at any given time. I would like you to confirm this, as a maker of this map."

James looked down at the map in question. After studying it for a few seconds he frowned. It appeared to be someone's house. He tried not to react as alarm bells went off in his mind.

They often were commissioned maps for private use. When their business became well known, many witches and wizards wanted a map of their own home for security purposes. Many of those people were wealthy purebloods. Either James or Sirius would go to the home in question with the client and create the first draft. Then, the two of them would perform the spellwork together. Their magical maps took a lot of time and effort, and as such they were admittedly a bit pricey.

This was no home that he recognised. Sure, they had created many maps over the last couple of years. But James had a knack for remembering unique features of each home. The McKinnon family had a giant water fountain in the garden next to a greenhouse. The Lovegood's home was the shape of a rook. The Malfoys had peacocks wandering the gardens, and Lucius Malfoy had insisted on the birds having their own labeled dots on the map.

Surely James would remember a home with so many fireplaces. He ran his fingers over the dark lines that were the walls of the mansion. Whoever the owner was had a decent vault of galleons at Gringotts, that was for certain. James' frown deepened as he explored the floors of the mansion. There were no people in the home according to the map. What exactly was he looking fo-

He froze.

James took his glasses off and inspected them with squinted eyes. He waved his wand and cast a spell to clean the lenses. Then he placed them back on.

The black dot hadn't moved. Goosepimples erupted over his uncovered arms, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. _It couldn't be._

Tom Riddle's name floated innocently on the map.

Slowly, James raised his wand and pointed it at the parchment. He could feel his grip on the Mahogany wood slip. James cleared his suddenly dry throat.

"Tabula," He watched as the map glowed a warm gold. James made a complicated motion with his wand.

"Addis personum: James Potter."

A dot appeared on the map with James' name floating above it. James swallowed thickly squashed the urge to conjure a glass of water. After all, if it turned out to be a fluke, he would feel awfully foolish for getting so worked up over some charmed ink.

"Tabula: confirmus veritae."

He watched with thinly veiled fear as his name vanished from the map and the remaining dot glowed a bright white. It was a simple test that he and Sirius had figured out ages ago when they had come up with the Marauders Map. He could still remember clear as day how they tested their creation with the spells for hours, sending Remus and Peter in and out of their dormitory over and over until they were certain the identification spells worked perfectly. The memories that normally made him smile or chuckle did nothing to stave away the terror that was mounting within him.

James performed a couple more spells to test the functionality of the map, but they all told him the same thing.

This was not a fluke. It was no spell error.

"Potter?"

He met the Fawley’s eyes and opened his mouth. But something about this whole thing felt off. James looked down at the map once more. The thought from earlier floated back to mind. This was a map of someone's home. A private map. One he couldn't remember even making. He certainly didn't remember being in this home. James would have commented on the number of fireplaces to his client. Whose home was this?

And why did the Ministry have a copy of it?

"Mister Potter." Fawley said slowly.

The warning bells from earlier were all but screaming.

"Yes sir?" James gripped the Mahogany wood in his hand.

"I've come to a conclusion based on your rather telling reactions to the spellwork performed. But I would like to hear you say it."

"It is my personal opinion, sir," James said slowly. "That there is no mistake in the spellwork that went into creating this map." He paused. "However, I do not recall aiding in this map's creation."

Fawley leaned back in his chair.

"I see." He smiled, but his eyes were the same chilly blue.

James raised his wand, but he was a second too slow.

"_Obliviate."_

…

Mike tried not to wince as his head began to throb again. He had hoped back in May that the headaches would resolve on their own, but they hadn’t. Now it was late June and if anything, they had increased in frequency. He pressed a palm against his forehead and grit his teeth as he rode out the wave of pain. Tylenol and ibuprofen did nothing to ease the throbbing. Neither had any pain relief potion Amy had given him.

He didn’t want to worry his parents. That was the only reason why he hadn’t mentioned anything. His hesitance had nothing to do with the fact that he hated getting check-ups. Absolutely not.

The irony was not lost on him.

Despite the pounding in his skull, Mike’s stomach demanded feeding. He tried to appear nonchalant as he entered the kitchen. As expected, his mom was standing over the sink handwashing a cutting board. Her greying hair was pulled up in a simple bun, and she was wearing her favorite floral dress. Wrapped around her legs was their calico cat, Mittens. The air was filled with a savory scent that made his mouth water.

“Hi sweetie,” his mom said. “Have you finished that volunteer application yet?”

“Yep. I already sent Marty to deliver it.” Mike approached the oven and crouched down to see through the glass. He eyed the roast beef and vegetables with a pleased hum. “How long until it’s done?”

“Oh, it’ll be another forty minutes.”

His stomach growled in response. If Mike’s head wasn’t hurting so much, he’d chuckle at the timing. As he stood a sudden wave of dizziness caught him off guard. Without warning, Mike fell to the ground. His ears started ringing and he thought he heard the sound of breaking glass.

“Mike!” His mom was shaking his shoulder gently. He blinked and his vision cleared. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, mom. I just got a bit dizzy.”

“How long has it been going on?” She grabbed his wrist and started checking his pulse.

“Mom, I’m fine.” Mike pulled his arm away and started to stand up. “It was only just now when I- ah!”

A sudden stabbing pain made him gasp against his will. The nausea flared up again. Mike retched, but nothing came up. He felt a hand rub his back in soothing circles.

“Is your head hurting, Mike?”

He nodded instead of verbally responding. Mike feared if he spoke, he would end up puking. When asked his level of pain he held up two hands.

“A ten? Okay, we’re going to the emergency room.”

One trip to the E.R. later, and Mike was back home and only feeling slightly better. Every test and study they had performed came back normal. Physically there was nothing wrong with him. They had prescribed medication, which he already knew wouldn’t help, and recommended that he follow up with his primary care doctor. His mom called his dad, who was working a late shift at the clinic, and informed him of what had happened. Mike had left the living room as she talked herself hoarse and got entangled in the coiled telephone cord. 

Mike promptly dropped onto his bed and sighed into his pillow. He’d made his mom so worried. That was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to do. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His headache was waning, but still there. If it didn’t go away, he would have to do something about it. What if it was a magical illness he had? Perhaps that was why they couldn’t find anything wrong with him at the E.R.

He pressed his palm against his forehead, right where his scar was, and decided that he would see a healer if the headaches didn’t go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be following Mike/Ron more. Soon summer will be over and we'll be following Mike back to school. Thanks to everyone who has left kudos, commented, and subscribed!


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